Directing Approaches from Contemporary Chilean Women

EXPANDING THEATRE: DIRECTING APPROACHES FROM

CONTEMPORARY CHILEAN WOMEN DIRECTORS

A THESIS IN Theatre

Presented to the Faculty of the University of Missouri-Kansas City in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree

MASTER OF ARTS

by MARY ALLISON JOSEPH

B.A., University of South Carolina, 2009

Kansas City, Missouri

2020

MARY ALLISON JOSEPH

EXPANDING THEATRE: DIRECTING APPROACHES FROM

CONTEMPORARY CHILEAN WOMEN DIRECTORS

Mary Allison Joseph, Candidate for the Master of Arts Degree

University of Missouri-Kansas City, 2020

ABSTRACT

This thesis examines the careers, theatrical ideologies, and directing methodologies of three contemporary Chilean women stage directors: Andrea Giadach, Alexandra von

Hummel, and Ignacia González. Respective chapters provide an overview of each director’s career that includes mention of formative moments. Each chapter also includes a synthesis of the director’s thinking as distilled from personal interviews and theoretical works, followed by a methodological case study that allows for analysis of specific directing methods, thus illuminating the director’s beliefs in action. In each chapter, the author asserts that the director’s innovative thinking and creative practices constitute expansions of the theatrical artform. Finally, the author traces similarities across the directing approaches of the three directors, which suggest guiding ideas for expanding the theatrical artform.

Chapter one explores the directing career of Andrea Giadach, with highlights including her acting experiences in La lluvia de verano (2005) and Mateluna (2012) and her

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directing projects Mi mundo patria (2008) and Penélope ya no espera (2014). Her beliefs about political theatre are illuminated through a directing case study of her 2019 production of El Círculo.

Chapter two delves into the directing career of Alexandra von Hummel, with highlights including her co-direction of La tercera obra (2005), her direction of Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer (2012), and her classroom direction of Angels in America (2006). As Von

Hummel often co-directs within her theatre company Teatro La María, co-directing methods are explored in an abbreviated case study of El hotel (2016). Her beliefs about theatre are illuminated through a directing case study of her 2018 production of Franco.

Chapter three examines the directing career of Ignacia González, with highlights including her directing projects La fábrica de vidrio (2015), Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo (2016), and Ella y los cerdos (2019), in addition to her experiences as a participant in and creator of research-based theatre companies and her teaching assistantship with Manuela

Infante. Her thinking about theatre is illuminated through a directing case study of her Punto ciego (2018).

APPROVAL PAGE

The faculty listed below, appointed by the Dean of the Conservatory have examined a thesis titled “Expanding Theatre: Directing Approaches from Contemporary Chilean Women

Directors,” presented by Mary Allison Joseph, candidate for the Master of Arts degree, and certify that in their opinion it is worthy of acceptance.

Supervisory Committee

Felicia Hardison Londré, Ph.D., Committee Chair Department of Theatre

Stephanie Roberts, M.F.A. Department of Theatre

Scott Stackhouse, M.F.A. Department of Theatre

CONTENTS

ABSTRACT ...... iii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ...... ix

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS ...... xiii

Chapter

INTRODUCTION ...... 1

Literature Review ...... 1

Research Methods ...... 4

Selection ...... 5

Analytical and Writing Methods ...... 8

Results ...... 9

1. ANDREA GIADACH: DIRECTING SUBJECTIVE MOVEMENT ...... 11

Giadach’s Career ...... 11

Core Beliefs about Theatre: Hegemonies and Subjective Movement ...... 30

Directing Case Study: El Círculo ...... 41

Giadach’s Expansion of Theatre ...... 86

2. ALEXANDRA VON HUMMEL: DIRECTING FROM DESIRE ...... 88

Von Hummel’s Career ...... 88

Core Beliefs about Theatre: Material Relationships and Sensations of Reality ...... 102

Co-Directing Methods within Teatro La María: Desires and Conversation...... 109

Directing Case Study: Franco ...... 114

Von Hummel’s Expansion of Theatre ...... 142

3. IGNACIA GONZÁLEZ: DIRECTING PERCEPTUAL EXPERIENCES ...... 143

González’s Career ...... 143

Core Beliefs about Theatre: Speculation and Perceptual Experiences ...... 166

Directing Case Study: Punto ciego ...... 171

González’s Expansion of Theatre ...... 213

CONCLUSION ...... 215

Appendix

A.1. Andrea Giadach’s Directing and Playwriting Credits ...... 218

A.2. Complete Credits for Andrea Giadach’s Highlighted Works ...... 221

A.3. Marketing Materials for Andrea Giadach’s Productions ...... 223

B.1. Teatro La María Production History ...... 227

B.2. Alexandra von Hummel’s Professional Directing Credits ...... 231

B.3. Complete Credits for Alexandra von Hummel’s Highlighted Works ...... 234

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B.4. Marketing Materials for Alexandra von Hummel’s Highlighted Productions ...... 235

C.1. Ignacia González’s Directing and Assistant Directing Credits ...... 239

C.2. Complete Credits for Ignacia González’s Highlighted Works ...... 241

C.3. Marketing Materials for Ignacia González’s Productions ...... 242

NOTES ...... 245

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 258

VITA ...... 281

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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figure Page

1. Andrea Giadach ...... 11

2. Moment with Ana from Mi mundo patria ...... 19

3. Moment with Anne from Mi mundo patria ...... 20

4. Moment with Anuar from Mi mundo patria ...... 21

5. Another moment with Anne from Mi mundo patria ...... 22

6. Ten-year anniversary production of Mi mundo patria ...... 23

7. Moment with Ana, ten-year anniversary production of Mi mundo patria ...... 24

8. New set design, ten-year anniversary production of Mi mundo patria ...... 25

9. Set of Penélope ya no espera ...... 27

10. In a futuristic Chile in Penélope ya no espera ...... 27

11. Late 19th-century Chile in Penélope ya no espera ...... 28

12. Intersubjective communication in Penélope ya no espera ...... 28

13. Recreating archival photos in El Círculo...... 44

14. Living room setting in El Círculo ...... 44

15. Attacking and resisting in El Círculo ...... 45

16. Astronaut puppet in El Círculo...... 45

17. Reenacting a headline in El Círculo ...... 46

18. Singing competition in El Círculo ...... 46

19. Returning to Palestine in El Círculo...... 47

20. Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager ...... 49

21. Alexandra von Hummel ...... 88

22. Scene from La tercera obra ...... 93

23. Moment in La tercera obra ...... 94

24. Broken glass in La tercera obra...... 95

25. Scene from Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer...... 98

26. Moment from Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer ...... 99

27. Moment from Isabel desterrada en Isabel ...... 101

28. Moment from Isabel desterrada en Isabel ...... 101

29. Moment from Isabel desterrada en Isabel ...... 102

30. Scene from El hotel at the Schaubühne ...... 109

31. Scene from El hotel ...... 110

32. One of the nurses and one of the convicts in El hotel ...... 110

33. Spa scene from El hotel ...... 112

34. Puppet scene from El hotel ...... 113

35. Set of Franco ...... 117

36. Franco with other bodies ...... 117

37. Franco’s mask ...... 118

38. Franco in spotlight ...... 119

39. Franco remembers his childhood sweetheart ...... 120

40. Scene from Franco ...... 120

41. Ignacia González ...... 143

42. Abandoned warehouse, La fábrica de vidrio ...... 148

43. Set of La fábrica de vidrio ...... 149

44. Moment from Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo ...... 151

45. Moment from Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo ...... 151

46. Moment from Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo ...... 152

47. Ignacia González’s rehearsal notes, Ella y los cerdos ...... 159

48. Translation of Ignacia González's rehearsal notes, Ella y los cerdos ...... 159

49. Ignacia González’s rehearsal notes, Ella y los cerdos ...... 160

50. Translation of Ignacia González's rehearsal notes, Ella y los cerdos ...... 161

51. Ignacia González’s rehearsal notes, Ella y los cerdos ...... 162

52. Translation of Ignacia González's rehearsal notes, Ella y los cerdos ...... 163

53. Moment from Ella y los cerdos ...... 164

54. Moment from Ella y los cerdos ...... 164

55. Moment from Punto ciego ...... 174

56. Trial scene in Punto ciego ...... 175

57. Suspected witches and warlocks on trial in Punto ciego ...... 175

58. A dead body on the beach in Punto ciego ...... 176

59. Blinding the audience in Punto ciego ...... 176

60. Diagram of an audience placement exercise, Punto ciego ...... 179

61. Audience configuration for Punto ciego...... 180

62. Priest and parishioner observe the crucifix...... 192

63. Poster for Mi mundo patria ...... 223

64. Marketing material for Mi mundo patria ...... 224

65. Poster for Penélope ya no espera ...... 225

66. Poster for El Círculo ...... 226

67. Poster for La tercera obra ...... 235

68. Poster for Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer ...... 236

69. Poster for El hotel ...... 237

70. Poster for Franco ...... 238

71. Poster for La fábrica de vidrio ...... 242

72. Poster for Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo ...... 243

73. Photograph of poster for Punto ciego ...... 244

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I wish to express sincere gratitude to Andrea Giadach, Ignacia González, and

Alexandra von Hummel, in addition to Macarena Baeza, Claudia Echenique, Paula González,

Trinidad González, Alejandra Gutiérrez, Ingrid Leyton, Samantha Manzur, Antonia Mendía,

Muriel Miranda, Elsa Poblete, Aliocha de la Sotta, and Alejandra Díaz Scharager for so generously sharing their knowledge and experiences in personal interviews and subsequent correspondence. I also wish to thank Moisés Norambuena and Constantino Marzuqa for sharing their experiences as actors in El Círculo. Alejandra Díaz Scharager deserves special recognition for her vital assistance with translations in Chapter One. Antonia Mendía also deserves enthusiastic thanks for connecting me with other directors.

I am deeply appreciative to María de la Luz Hurtado, Jonathan Aravena, and Anita

Moreno of the Universidad Católica’s Programa de Investigación y Archivos de la Escena

Teatral for providing access to archival materials and pointing me in the direction of other resources. I am thankful to Amapola Reyes Baeza, whose diligent research assistance helped expand this project’s archival reach. I appreciate the early assistance of Dr. Alexandra Ripp,

Dr. Gustavo Geirola, Dr. Lola Proaño Gómez, and Camila Le-bert. I would also like to thank the UMKC Women’s Council and the UMKC School of Graduate Studies for providing grant support for research trips to Chile.

I am so thankful for Dakotta L. Hagar, Sarah Jean Haynes-Hohne, and Gabriel J.

Livingston, and their support and camaraderie throughout my time in the M.A. program. I wish to thank Jessica Andrews, Sarah Ann Leahy, Shannon Mastel, JT Nagle, Meredith Noel,

Erdin Schultz-Bever, Marisa Tejeda, and Franklin Wagner for genuinely welcoming me into their rooms.

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A heartful thank you to Theodore Swetz for launching my obsession with theatrical technique and to Carla Noack for seeing me. Special thanks to Frank Higgins for his support.

Thank you to both Stephanie Roberts and Scott Stackhouse for their committee service and directing insights. An earnest thanks to Dr. Felicia Londré for her enthusiastic mentorship and teaching that has so enriched my life.

Thank you to my parents, Michael, Melanie, and Lenora, for raising me and helping me become the person that I am today. Thank you to my siblings, Michael, Jason, Katherine,

Molly, and Alex, for sharing in life with me. Thank you to Leidy Quitián Varón, Jon Stow, and Matías Stow Quitián for their hospitality in a crucial time of need. Tiago Donato

Amorim de Araujo provided invaluable assistance with translations, in addition to love, support, and an abundance of patience, all of which were essential for the completion of this thesis.

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For womxn directors, who so courageously confront life through art by creating stages of

their own.

Para las directoras mujeres que, al crear una escena propia, enfrentan la vida a través del arte

de una manera tan valiente

INTRODUCTION

In reflecting on her theatre practice, early-career theatre director Ignacia González shared that when she uses theatre to speculate with students, she has noticed that “it is liberating for people to feel this expansion of theatre.”1 What does it mean to expand theatre?

Or any artform, for that matter? I would argue that we might equate theatrical expansion with innovation, that which adds to the body of available knowledge, theories, techniques, aesthetics, and analysis. This expansion might occur through practice, as with the directors included in this thesis, or it might occur through documentation, as with the intent of this thesis. This thesis aims to provide robust documentation of the careers, thinking, and methods of contemporary Chilean women theatre directors Andrea Giadach, Alexandra von

Hummel, and Ignacia González, and in so doing, it seeks to begin to address the critical gap in scholarship on Chilean women stage directors.

Literature Review

The directing practices of women stage directors are grossly under-documented in comparison to those of their male counterparts,2 and the practices of women stage directors outside the United States and the United Kingdom even more so. Chilean women stage directors are, unfortunately, no exception. In 2013, Fliotsos and Vierow made significant strides in internationalizing scholarship’s scope on women directors, profiling women directors from twenty-four countries, among which four of the thirty-three Latin American countries (though not Chile) were featured.3 To date, the most extensive work on Latin

American directors and the only work of its kind, is Geirola’s six-volume series devoted to documenting the lives and practices of directors across the region. Spanning seventeen

countries and 107 directors, the work is unprecedented in scope, yet covers five Chilean directors, only one of whom is a woman, Ana Harcha.4

Within Chilean theatre scholarship, book-length studies about women stage directors are few and far between. In 2012, director Manuela Oyarzún edited a volume that illuminates the process employed by Mapamundi Teatro, her theatre company, in the creation of El terremoto de Chile, la modificación transitoria de la estructura (The Earthquick of Chile, the

Transitory Modification of Structure).5 Stage director Malucha Pinto authored a 2012 work that includes the play text La pasionaria (The Passion Flower), in addition to the first-person testimony collected during its creation.6 In 2016, archival materials of the legendary theatre company Teatro de Chile (Theatre of Chile) were published, and these include photographs of some of Manuela Infante’s* director’s notes. 2018 saw the publication of four play texts from director Paula González Seguel’s† theatre company KIMVN Teatro.7 While this resource includes introductory material on the history of the company, it only hints at the fascinating documentary theatremaking technique the company employs.

Online, there are four valuable resources that provide insight into the careers of many

Chilean women stage directors. Memoria Chilena (Chilean Memory),‡ includes some twenty-

* Manuela Infante (b. 1980) is a leading Chilean stage director and playwright who began her rise to prominence as a member of the Teatro de Chile theatre company (active 2001-2016). During her tenure with the company, Infante earned eight directing credits: Prat (2001, co-directed with María José Parga), Juana (2004), Narciso (2005), Cristo (2008), Ernesto (2010), Multicancha (2010), Loros negros (2011), and Zoo (2013). She also earned seven playwriting credits: Prat, Juana, Narciso, Cristo, Ernesto (collectively created), Zoo (collectively created), and Rey Planta (2006). Most recently, she wrote and directed the internationally recognized Estado Vegetal (2017). † Paula González Seguel (b. 1983) is a Chilean director, documentarían, playwright, cultural manager, and actress. González Seguel, herself third-generation Mapuche born in Santiago, and her theatre company KMVN Teatro have put authoritative accounts of Mapuche realities on stage since 2009 with their work Ñi pu tremen- Mis antepasados. Through this and subsequent works that include Galvarino (2012), Ñuke (2016), and Trewa (2019), González Seguel has developed a documentary theatre technique rooted in oral history, work with non- actors, and exploration of her own and other creatives’ identities. ‡ Memoria Chilena is a collaborative project by the Chilean National Library, the Chilean National Digital Library, and the Ministry of Culture, Arts, and Patrimony of the Chilean national government 2

five multipage entries of information on Chilean performing arts. These include two relevant entries: Mujeres en el teatro (1900-1950): actrices, directoras y dramaturgas8 (Women in

Theatre (1900-1950): Actresses, Directors, and Playwrights) and Mujeres en el teatro (1950-

2010): actrices, directoras y dramaturgas9 (Women in Theatre (1950-2010): Actresses,

Directors, and Playwrights). Encyclopedic in nature, these two articles provide essential biographical and career information on several Chilean women stage directors, yet they do not delve into directing methodologies. Additionally, there is Chile Escena: Memoria Activa del Teatro Chileno 1810-2010 (Chilean Stage: Active Memory of the Chilean Theatre 1810-

2010), which documents some 200 years of Chilean theatre history.10 Part of the hugely significant collaborative project Chile Actúa,* Chile Escena is rich with historical production photos and wide-ranging information. Like Memoria Chilena, it is encyclopedic in nature and so is unable to delve into detailed directing methods of the women stage directors it features.

In terms of archival footage available online, there is the online archive of Teatro de

Chile (Theatre of Chile), which includes archival footage of all twelve of the company’s productions, including those directed by Manuela Infante.11 Lastly, there is Escenix, a streaming platform newly launched in 2020, and it features complete archival footage for eleven Chilean productions, three of which are directed by women: Xuárez (directed by

Manuela Infante), Greta (co-directed by Constanza Brieba y Jorge Díaz), and a 1985

* Chile Actúa was a project organized by Caja los Andes, Corporación Cultural de la Cámara Chilena de la Construcción, Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, and the Escuela de Teatro de la Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, to celebrate the bicentennial anniversary of Chile’s Independence and the Chilean people’s connectio with theatre. The umbrella project included the website, Memoria Chilena, in addition to the publication of a book (Teatro Chileno Tiempos de Gloria: 1949-1969 desde las Fotografías de René Combeau) and the organization of an exhibition (Maestros en Escena: 1949-1969. Fotografía de René Combeau). 3

production from the historic Teatro ICTUS,* La primavera y mi país tienen una esquina rota

(Spring and my Country have a Broken Corner, directed by Claudio di Girolamo, Delfina

Guzmán, and Nissim Sharim).12 Although it does not yet contain archival footage of productions directed by women, I also mention here Teatro a Mil TV, which likely will include footage from productions by women directors in the future.13

Research Methods

In June 2019, I traveled to Santiago de Chile for a ten-day field research trip with the support of the UMKC School of Graduate Studies Research Grant. I conducted archival research at the Biblioteca Campus Oriente (Eastern Campus Library) and the Programa de

Investigación y Archivos de la Escena Teatral de la Escuela de Teatro (Theatre Scene

Archive and Research Program of the School of Theatre), both of the Pontificia Universidad

Católica de Chile.† I interviewed eleven women stage directors: Macarena Baeza, Aliocha de la Sotta,‡ Claudia Echenique, Paula González, Trinidad González, Alejandra Gutiérrez,

Ingrid Leyton, Samantha Manzur, Antonia Mendía, Muriel Miranda, and Elsa Poblete, and secured the contact information of many others. I attended productions at Teatro El Puente

(Bridge Theatre), Centro Cultural Metropolitano Gabriela Mistral (Gabriela Mistral

Metropolitan Cultural Center), Centro Cultural Matucana 100 (Matucana 100 Cultural

* The Teatro ICTUS company was founded in 1955 by acting students at the Universidad Católica. Though the company ultimately cut official ties with any university organization. Among its founding members were Claudio Di Girolamo, Paz Irarrázabal, Chicha Ossa, Mónica Echeverría, and Sonia Azócar. ICTUS nurtured ties with playwrights of the Generación Literaria de 1950, including Jorge Díaz., with whom it continued its work into the 1960s. † Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile (UC) is a private university, founded in 1888, in Santiago de Chile. ‡ Lucía Alejandra De la Sotta Martínez (b. 1972) is a renowned Chilean director and actress and founder of the theatre company Teatro La Mala Clase. She is an alumna of the Academia de Actuación de Fernando González and the Conservatoire Royal D’Art Dramatique in Liège, Belgium. Her numerous directed productions include La lluvia de verano (2000), La historia de un niño que enloqueció de amor (2005), La mala clase (2009), Hilda Peña (2014), El Dylan (2017), Cassandra, La Sandra (2019), and Mistral, Gabriela 1945 (2019). 4

Center), and Teatro UC (UC Theatre, theatre space of the Pontificia Universidad Católica de

Chile). Upon returning from the field research trip, I subsequently interviewed four additional women stage directors: Alexandra von Hummel, Andrea Giadach, Alejandra Díaz

Scharager, and Ignacia González.

Selection

Faced with the difficult task of choosing only a handful of directors from among a wealth of fascinating information, I engaged in a relatively intuitive process of selection: I requested additional interviews from those directors whose productions continuously replayed in my mind, from those directors whose thinking lingered in my thoughts and continually reappeared in my conversations. Not only do I find their methods intriguing, but collectively, Andrea Giadach, Alexandra von Hummel, and Ignacia González represent an interesting sample of contemporary Chilean women stage directors. Von Hummel has enjoyed a twenty-year career with her theatre company, Teatro La María (The María

Theatre), and hers is a recognized name in the Chilean theatre scene. Giadach has enjoyed a similarly lengthy career, though due to her more curated body of professional directing projects, her talent far exceeds her name recognition. González is an early-career director, having directed her first production in 2015, though this thesis will reveal how a lengthy and innovative career surely lies before her.

Alexandra von Hummel

I interviewed Alexandra von Hummel on two occasions in 2019. Since we were not able to meet in person during my field research trip, these interviews were conducted remotely, and she generously granted me access to archival footage of El hotel (The Hotel) and Franco; in addition to the unpublished scripts for Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer, its

English-language translation In Pursuit of Nora Helmer, Franco, and El hotel; countless production photos; and production posters.

The three richest resources available on Von Hummel’s work are, first, the Teatro La

Maria website, which features production photos, credits, and summaries of all twenty of the company’s productions.14 Second is Von Hummel’s own thesis, Memoria de Obra: La

Puesta en Escena como Anagrama o Escucha Múltiple: Proliferación del Habla y del

Cuerpo en Franco (A Production Record: Staging as Anagram or Multiplied Hearing:

Proliferation of Speech and Body in Franco), in which she details the creative methods that she employed in Franco.15 Third is XVI Muestra Nacional de Dramaturgia 2014: Prácticas

Creativas, Discusiones, Registros (XVI National Playwriting Showcase 2014: Creative

Practices, Discussions, Archives), edited by Andrés Grumann Sölter and María de la Luz

Hurtado.16 Through archival materials including rehearsal photos, photos of directors’ notes, renderings, and copies of email exchanges, in addition to interviews with directors, playwrights, designers, and cast members, this innovative work documents the rehearsal processes of the new plays selected for the Chilean National Playwriting Showcase. In so doing, it provides unique glimpses into the creative processes of several women theatre directors: Alexandra von Hummel, Aliocha de la Sotta, and Millaray Lobos. This fascinating document provides valuable insight into Von Hummel’s thinking and directing process, though its scope and intent necessarily preclude comprehensive coverage of any one director’s thinking or methods.

Beyond reviews of Teatro La María’s productions and Von Hummel’s outside directing productions, the majority of the documentation of her work lies in three sources.

Helland interviewed Von Hummel for his cross-continental analysis of Ibsen productions, in

which he reviewed her direction of Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer.17 Von Hummel’s company’s work has been documented in Carvajal and van Diest’s 2009 study of Chilean theatre companies from 1990 to 200818 and in Cápona’s and Del Campo’s 2019 study of political violence in contemporary Chilean theatre.19 While Von Hummel’s name features on both Memoria Chilena and Chile Escena, her reflections on her career, her thinking about theatre, and her directing work have never been comprehensively documented.

Andrea Giadach

I interviewed Andrea Giadach twice, once in 2019 and again in 2020. Additionally, I interviewed her El Círculo* (The Circle) co-director Alejandra Díaz Scharager in 2019 and cast members Moisés Norambuena and Constantino Marzuqa in 2020. Although I met

Giadach in person during my field research trip after attending El Círculo, my interviews with her colleagues and her occurred remotely after my return. Giadach generously granted me access to the texts of Mi mundo patria (My Homeworld) and El Círculo, innumerable production photos, and production posters. Giadach’s directing work is documented on two websites. First is the website of her company Territorio Particular (Specific Territory), which contains production photos, reviews, credits, and plot summaries of Mi mundo patria and

Penélope ya no espera (Penelope Isn’t Waiting Anymore).20 Next is the website of

Fundación Natuf, a foundation that was recently created by the cast and creatives of El

Círculo to house this and future projects; this site contains credits, production photos, and details of a workshop and audience talkbacks for El Círculo. Her work on Mi mundo patria was documented in an article in 2008 by Duarte Loveluck, though this is a reflection on the

* Spanish-language titles typically only capitalize the first word of the title; however, the creatives behind El Círculo opted to capitalize “Círculo” because the word is of great importance. 7

production and its themes rather than an analysis of Giadach’s methods.21 Lastly and most recently, the text of Mi mundo patria was published in an anthology of Chilean theatre for young audiences.22 To date, Giadach’s reflections on her career, her thinking about theatre, and her directing work have never been comprehensively documented.

Ignacia González

I interviewed Ignacia González on two occasions, once in 2019 and again in 2020.

Although I met González in person during my field research trip after attending Punto ciego

(Blind Spot), my interviews with her occurred remotely after my return. González generously granted me access to the unpublished texts of Punto ciego and Ella y los cerdos (She and the

Pigs); the text of a panel presentation in which she reflected on her methods in Punto ciego; her thesis Percibir en la oscuridad: Alteraciones de la noción de cuerpo, espacio y tiempo escénico en la percepción auditiva y visual (Perceiving in Darkness: Alterations of the

Notions of Theatrical Body, Time, and Space in Auditory and Visual Perception);23 countless production photos, rehearsal photos, and photos of her directing notes; in addition to production posters. Her directing work is also documented on her company’s website which contains an interview with González, credits and plot summaries of Compañía Persona’s

(Person Company) three productions, production photos, production sound clips, and details of the company’s community outreach. To date, González’s reflections on her career, her thinking about theatre, and her directing work have never been comprehensively documented.

Analytical and Writing Methods

With all of these directors, I first wrote about their careers, highlighting those moments and productions that they each identified as most significant in their memories.

Then, I sought to extract from our conversations their foundational ideas and approaches, separate from any individual production. I then wrote documentation of the specific methods utilized in an exemplary production, and only afterward, did I seek to identify the foundational ideas and approaches behind these methods. The separation of foundational ideas and approaches from specific production methods is based on an intuitive sense that our core beliefs and approaches manifest in different ways across diverse projects, over and over again. Additionally, it’s simply a way of organization that makes sense to me. Moreover, by only seeking and analyzing the directors’ foundational beliefs and approaches in their case study methods after having documented them, I hoped to maintain the purity of description of their specific methods as they presented them to me and reduce the likelihood that my own interpretation would restructure their working methods. Further, as coherent as these directors are about their beliefs and methods, more often than not, they are not consciously and actively thinking about their core beliefs when directing, but rather responding to the specific artistic demands before them. Lastly, each director was provided with a copy of her chapter so that she could submit feedback and request edits.

Results

The first chapter on Andrea Giadach reveals how she has developed a highly unique political theatre technique rooted in Said’s theory of Orientalism and Latin American decolonial theory. It details the manifestation of her core beliefs and approaches in the case study on El Círculo (The Circle), her most difficult directing project to date. The second chapter on Alexandra von Hummel shows how Deleuze’s language of sensation resonates with her intuitive approach to directing. It explores the presence of her foundational beliefs and methods in the case study on Franco, her recent thesis production. The final chapter on

Ignacia González looks at her unique approach to aesthetics as perceptual experiences and her speculative theatremaking process, learned from director Manuela Infante. The case study goes through the appearance of her essential beliefs and approaches in Punto ciego

(Blind Spot), involving a year-and-a-half long research and rehearsal process. I argue that each of these directors is expanding theatre in unique ways, and that knowledge of their thinking and practices will certainly enrich theatre practice everywhere.

All translations from Spanish into English, including those of titles of works, are my own unless otherwise specified in a footnote or bibliographic entry.

CHAPTER 1

ANDREA GIADACH: DIRECTING SUBJECTIVE MOVEMENT

Figure 1. Andrea Giadach. Photograph by Noli Provoste, 2020. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach.

Giadach’s Career

Andrea Giadach Cristensen’s (b. 1970) theatrical career began in childhood, when she would get together with her “little neighbors to make theatre, create things.”1 In Giadach’s childhood, Chile was “much more socially connected . . . We spoke to our neighbors, we visited one another, and we didn’t ring the doorbell. We didn’t have to ask permission. We simply went inside.”2 This open-door approach to hospitality has since faded, and Giadach feels the loss of the communicative Chile of her youth. She believes that her need for theatre sprang from her need for communication.3 And so since childhood, she has written and acted,

and in spite of many other interests including philosophy, psychology, and visual arts,

Giadach chose to study theatre.

Giadach studied at the Universidad de Chile’s* Department of Theatre from 1991 to

1995, where she began experiencing the “profound pleasure of living in the present of actor creation.”4 This initial introduction to theatre through acting meant that she began teaching theatre from an actor’s perspective. Of this formative experience at Universidad de Chile,

Giadach cites two specific influences on her theatrical career. From her experience with professor Verónica García-Huidobro†, in which she presented plays to schoolchildren,

Giadach learned that “theatre can generate a lot of movement in young people.”5 She also cites her graduation production, a Spanish-language production of Victor ou les enfants au pouvoir (Victor, or Power to the Children6) by French surrealist playwright Roger Vitrac

(1899-1952) and directed by the prominent Chilean theatre artist Alfredo Castro.‡ This production, which Giadach describes as “gutsy,”7 is representative of her larger experience at

Universidad de Chile, where she and her classmates were “very active and very bold.”8 This courageous collective experience left its impression on her approach to theatremaking,

“which is very much based in courage, . . . ignoring any adversities.”9

* The Universidad de Chile is a public university located in Santiago de Chile. Formally founded in 1842, it traces its lineage to colonial times and is considered the oldest institution of higher education in Chile. † María Verónica García-Huidobro Valdés (b. 1960) is a Chilean actress, director, and theatre professor who specializes in applied theatre, theatre pedagogy, and theatre for young audiences. A founding member of La Balanza: teatro y educación, she has served as director since its birth in 1993. She is the author of Pedagogía Teatral: Metodología activa en el aula (Ediciones UC, 2018). ‡ Alfredo Castro (b. 1955), is a Chilean actor and director and one of Chile’s most influential Chilean theatre directors. In 1989, he founded the theatre company Teatro La Memoria, with which he directed La manzana de Adán, Historia de la sangre, and Los días tuertos in the 1990s. Among his many directed productions are La tierra no es redonda (1989-1990), Rey Lear (1992-1993), Hechos consumados (1999), Las sirvientas (2002), and Un roble (2008). 12

Twenty-Five Years of Acting, Directing, Playwriting, and Teaching

Since graduating from the Universidad de Chile, Giadach has enjoyed a twenty-five- year career in theatre as an actress, director, playwright, and professor. She has acted in over twenty professional productions, working with such important Chilean theatre directors as

Aliocha De la Sotta,* Guillermo Calderón,† and Paula González Seguel.‡ Giadach has also taught diverse courses and workshops including political theatre, directing, theatre and ritual, and realism at universities, schools, and other organizations in the Santiago area. She has directed at least ten productions in educational settings, including works by or inspired by important Chilean playwrights like Ramón Griffero,§ Isidora Aguirre,** and Juan Radrigán,†† in addition to works by international names like Pasolini and Racine (see Appendix A.1).

In 2008, Giadach expanded her career to include professional directing and playwriting, with her critically acclaimed Mi mundo patria (My Homeworld), hailed as an

“astonishing little jewel”10 and earning “best directorial debut” of the year from critics.11 She

* See footnote p. 4. † Guillermo Calderón (b. 1971) is an acclaimed Chilean playwright and director. He is the author of Neva (2006), Diciembre (2008), Clase (2008), Villa + Discurso (2010), Escuela (2013), Mateluna (2016), and Dragón (2018). ‡ See footnote p. 2. § Ramón Griffero (b. 1954) is a renowned Chilean director and playwright whose first works, produced during the 1980s, are associated with resistance of the Pinochet dictatorship. Among his many works are Recuerdos del hombre con su tortuga, Historias de un galpón abandonado, Cinema Utoppia, Río abajo, and Éxtasis. ** Isidora Aguirre (1919-2011) was a renowned Chilean playwright and key theatrical figure of the twentieth century most known for her musical comedy La pérgola de las flores (1960). Among the more than thirty works that premiered during her lifetime are Los papeleros, Los que van quedando en el camino, Retablo de Yumbel, and ¡Lautaro!. †† Juan Radrigán Rojas (1937-2016) was a renowned Chilean author, poet, essayist, and playwright, who began his theatrical career with Testimonios de las muertes de Sabina in 1979. Among his many plays are Hechos consumados (1981), El toro por las astas (1982), El encuentramiento (1996), and Amores de cantina (2011). His work, which centered marginalized groups, was met with critical acclaim in Chile: he won back-to-back awards for best work of the year for Hechos consumados and El toro por las astas from the Círculo de Críticos de Arte (Art Critics’ Circle). His work also received international attention, with a special invitation in 1983 to the World Theatre Festival at Nancy (France). He was awarded the Premio Nacional de Artes de la Representación (National Performing Arts Award) in 2009 in recognition of his lifetime of dramatic work. 13

has since earned three other professional playwriting credits and seven other professional directing credits. Most recently she wrote and co-directed El Círculo (The Circle) with

Alejandra Díaz Scharager; it was declared “one of the most acclaimed Chilean plays of

2019.”12

Memorable Moments

In considering milestones from her career, Giadach cites two productions in which she acted: La lluvia de verano (Summer Rain,13 2005) and Mateluna (2012), for their important lessons in political theatre. Additionally, she cites three of her own productions, all of which she wrote and directed: Mi mundo patria (2008), Penélope ya no espera (2014), and

El Círculo (2019). Since El Círculo is so closely associated with Giadach’s reflections on where she is right now in her career, it will be discussed in the next section, At Present: El

Círculo. Further, the methods employed in El Círculo will be detailed in the case study section. Although Giadach’s core beliefs about theatre will be explored later in the chapter, these brief highlights are shared here as they provide insight into how Giadach has gradually refined her understanding of political theatre throughout her career.

La lluvia de verano: Theatre as a Political Act

Giadach sees her experience acting in La lluvia de verano as fundamental to her understanding of political theatre for three key reasons: the play’s political theme and complementary aesthetic, her own acting insights into the collective nature of theatre, and her movement work with Cristián Lagreze. La lluvia de verano is the renowned Chilean stage director Aliocha de la Sotta’s adaptation of La Pluie d’été, a novel by Marguerite Duras

(1914-1916). De la Sotta’s adaptation digs into the novel’s questioning of the formal education system, and this political theme was supported by aesthetic ones, including the

set.14 The set design was a house made entirely of hard cardboard, which the cast broke down by the end of each performance.15 Additionally, Giadach gained the realization that, as a cast member, she was “one piece of the stage machinery,”16 and that effectively contributing to the stage machinery should be her chief concern, rather than the amount of text she was allotted, concerns over her own performance, or even her own enjoyment while acting. She understood very clearly that “what mattered was the collective and the objective of the staging.”17 Finally, from the cast’s movement work with Lagreze, Giadach learned that relaxation of the body allows an actress to manage her own acting energy better, which in turn, more effectively communicates the theme of the work.18 Collectively, these lessons led to Giadach’s understanding of theatre as a political act,19 and to her desire to direct a professional work of theatre with fellow castmate Lorena Ramírez Álamo, with whom she would create Mi mundo patria.

Mateluna: Working with the Real

Giadach sees her experience acting in Mateluna, directed by prominent director

Guillermo Calderón, as a piece of her larger understanding of political theatre because it taught her about working with “the real.”20 The play looks at the experiences of Jorge

Mateluna (b. 1974), who had been a member of the armed resistance group the Frente

Patriótico Manuel Rodríguez (FPMR; the Manuel Rodríguez Patriotic Front), founded in

1983 under the Pinochet dictatorship and still active in the 1990s. Mateluna had served twelve years in prison during Chile’s transition to democracy, but was later pardoned and released in 2004. In 2013, Mateluna was arrested for an unrelated bank robbery, for which he was convicted and sentenced to more than sixteen years in prison. Activists, including those artists that created the work Mateluna, believe that Mateluna’s past involvement in the

FPMR led to a wrongful conviction. As Giadach puts it, Mateluna’s lived reality was ever present for the cast and creatives: “every time we said our lines, we said them with full awareness that we are talking about an actual reality.”21 But the work didn’t only deal with reality; it also sought to affect it: the group’s objective was to get Mateluna out of jail.22

Mateluna is still in prison, but even recently, the Mateluna cast and creatives met up and shared how they would never be able to untie themselves from Jorge Mateluna.23 Theatre that so directly impacts a living person was unprecedented for Giadach and many, and Giadach sees a connection between this group’s engagement with reality and her most recent project,

El Círculo.24

Mi mundo patria: Working from Intimate Need

After working on La lluvia de verano together, Giadach and collaborator Lorena

Ramírez Álamo joined forces to create a piece of theatre that dealt with something of tremendous personal importance to both of them: Palestine. Ramírez’s mother moved to

Chile after the Nakba,* and Giadach’s grandfather left Palestine for Chile in the early 1900s.

What resulted from this shared desire to create a work of theatre about Palestine was Mi mundo patria (My Homeworld†), a monodrama, born of real-life testimony, that features three characters, all of whom were forced into exile as children: Anne (who emigrates from

Sweden to Poland), Ana (who flees from Chile to Costa Rica), and Anuar (who is forced to leave Palestine for Chile). Giadach wrote and directed the piece, and Ramírez acted in all

* Al-Nakba, which translates as “the catastrophe,” refers to the 1948 creation of the state of Israel and accompanying expulsion of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians from their homes. † My translation of this title into English does not convey the poetry of the original title. Patria might be translated as homeland, fatherland, or mother country, while mundo means world. By combining these two words, Giadach hopes to evoke the idea of world, in the sense of the earth, but also the idea of one’s internal world, the self. 16

three roles. That said, the creative process was highly collaborative, with both Giadach and

Ramírez engaging in pre-rehearsal research, testimony collection, and textual edits.

At first, Giadach and Ramírez only knew that they wanted to talk about Palestine, but they weren’t sure how to approach the theme. Giadach asserts that this discovery of “how” was their “great journey.”25 Part of their research process included reading Cartucho: Relatos de la lucha en el norte (Cartucho: Tales of the Struggle in Northern Mexico), by Nellie

Campobello,* which tells of the Mexican Revolution from the perspective of a young girl who lives through it. In reading Cartucho, they saw how a specific “microhistory,” illuminated the “macrohistory” of the Mexican Revolution.26 This reading provided the answer to the question of how they would talk about Palestine: they decided to gather testimonies of people who were forced to leave Palestine during their childhood. As they began these interviews, at a time when in Chile little was known about Palestine, they realized that they also needed to gather accounts from various places in the world, so as to connect the exile forced upon the Palestinian people to other instances of exile more familiar to audiences.27 They ultimately gathered “testimonies of people from different places, all of whom suffered the loss of their homelands during childhood and, as a result, had to reconstitute their identities.”28 Giadach emphasizes that the most important discovery of this part of their creative process was learning “the political potential of the microstory.”29

The work begun on Mi mundo patria in 2008 is not over, however. It has had various runs over the years, and most recently, Giadach and Ramírez applied for and were awarded

* Nellie Campobello (1900-1986) was an important Mexican revolutionary novelist. Her semi-autobiographical novel Cartucho: Relatos de la lucha en el norte (1931) is the only woman-authored, first-person account of the Mexican Revolution. She also authored Las manos de Mamá (1938). See Cartucho: Tales of the Struggle in Northern Mexico in Cartucho and My Mother’s Hands; University of Texas Press, 1988. 17

national arts funding* under the designation “Theatrical Patrimony,” which grants funding for reiterations of works of theatrical significance in Chile.30 In this latest reprise, they engaged in an intentional reworking of the set design. In its original design concept, realistic costume pieces served to anchor each segment to a cultural context and distinguish one from the other.31 Giadach and set designers then worked the idea of homeland (maps, territory, an island) into a relatively bare stage, with minimal props that the actress would pull from and store under the stage, allowing the character to “produce his or her own world.”32 In this way, the main theme of the work, the loss of a homeland, “was given aesthetic support in the staging.”33

For the ten-year anniversary production, the set design evoked a museum, with the props, formerly stored under the stage floor, now on display on shelves. Further, the first moment of the play was reworked:

Previously, while the audience was arriving, Lorena was seated on a very tall chair, . . . playing a drum . . . and looking at people. And now what we did is utilize the archival footage to project a video of Lorena doing this ten years ago, while Lorena in the present enters the theatre, watches herself, gets into costume, and then goes on stage and begins imitating [the projected image of] herself with the drum.34

While this reworked aesthetic certainly makes sense given the work’s new status as theatrical patrimony, the intent behind it was to “acknowledge the passage of time and the passage of history” and declare that “ten years ago, this was happening, but the situation in Palestine continues the same and worse.”35 For Giadach, this decision to utilize the set design in order to denounce the lack of progress is a clear example of how aesthetics can also be political.

* Fondos de Cultura, commonly referred to as FONDART, are granted by the Ministerio de las Culturas, las Artes y el Patrimonio, a ministry of the Chilean national government. 18

Giadach’s need to talk about Palestine “made [her] a director . . . and a playwright,” and she sees Mi mundo patria as marking a turning point in her life.36 She discovered what she calls her “foundation” as a director and a playwright:

From then on, I can no longer direct something that’s not important to me, in the sense that it intersects with me as a person . . . Palestine affected both of us personally, but at the same time, we were addressing a larger context. And I came to understand . . . that this [combination] . . . was my foundation, as a director and as a playwright.37

This connection of the personal with a larger context is the basis of what Giadach terms

“intimate” theatre: an intersection of “the performance [with] the personal, the testimonial, and [a] social story or context.”38 After Mi mundo patria, Giadach began directing and teach from a much more political, and intimate, perspective.39

Figure 2. Moment with Ana from Mi mundo patria. Photograph by Sergio Trabucco Zerán, 2008. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach. 19

Figure 3. Moment with Anne from Mi mundo patria. Photograph by Sergio Trabucco Zerán, 2008. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach.

Figure 4. Moment with Anuar from Mi mundo patria. Photograph by Sergio Trabucco Zerán, 2008. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach. 21

Figure 5. Another moment with Anne from Mi mundo patria. Photograph by Sergio Trabucco Zerán, 2008. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach. 22

Figure 6. Ten-year anniversary production of Mi mundo patria. Photograph courtesy of Centro Cultural Matucana 100. 23

Figure 7. Moment with Ana from the ten-year anniversary production of Mi mundo patria. Photograph courtesy of Centro Cultural Matucana 100. 24

Figure 8. New set design in the ten-year anniversary production of Mi mundo patria. Photograph courtesy of Centro Cultural Matucana 100.

Penélope ya no espera: Playwriting as Starting from Scratch

Although Giadach is adamant that Penélope ya no espera (Penelope Isn’t Waiting

Anymore) was a group effort, this second play of hers differs from Mi mundo patria in that she wrote it entirely on her own, before attempting to stage it.40 For this reason, Penélope ya no espera stands out in Giadach’s mind as a significant accomplishment because of how it had to do with playwriting, that “ability to say, OK, I’m going to generate something from scratch.”41 The genesis of this play was Giadach’s need to talk about how the internet changes intersubjective communication and relationships, in addition to a need to talk about the past, which suddenly came upon her when she saw a poster of a work by Pina Bausch.42

Penélope ya no espera details the encounter of two women of different time periods who live

in the same home: Rosario, an aristocrat in republican Chile at the end of the nineteenth century, and Rocío, a Chilean cyberactivist in the future. They begin to hear and speak to one another, and eventually, “true listening allows them to see one another.”43

Importantly, Giadach wrote this play after having completed a certificate program in political philosophy at the Universidad de Chile in 2011,44 in which she was exposed to diverse disciplines. Of these, she cites three direct influences on the play: gender studies, the origin of the Chilean republic, and Lévinas’s philosophical idea of “the face of the other.”45

First, her encounter with gender studies in the program influenced her decision to speak from the point of view of two women.46 Then, her exposure to the study of the origins of the

Chilean republic marked the moment when she began to understand just how much Chile was shaped by Europe, particularly the European Enlightenment.47 For this reason, it was important for Giadach to write from the point of view of a woman living in Chile during the consolidation of the republic.48

One thing that particularly struck Giadach was her exposure to Lithuanian-born

French philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas (1905-1995) and his idea of “the face of the other,” first explored in his Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority. From Lévinas’s thinking,

Giadach constructed the main idea of Penélope ya no espera: “intersubjective communication generates the present.”49

Figure 9. Set of Penélope ya no espera. Photograph by Elio Frugone Piña - fototeatro.cl, 2015. Courtesy of Elio Frugone Piña.

Figure 10. In a futuristic Chile in Penélope ya no espera. Photograph by Elio Frugone Piña - fototeatro.cl, 2015. Courtesy of Elio Frugone Piña.

Figure 11. Late 19th-century Chile in Penélope ya no espera. Photograph by Elio Frugone Piña - fototeatro.cl, 2015. Courtesy of Elio Frugone Piña.

Figure 12. Intersubjective communication in Penélope ya no espera. Photograph by Elio Frugone Piña - fototeatro.cl, 2015. Courtesy of Elio Frugone Piña.

At Present: Maturity from El Círculo

Giadach’s latest work, El Círculo (The Circle), opened its first run in May of 2019.

This particularly difficult project involved devising around the issue of Palestine with a group of creatives, half of Palestinian descent and half of Jewish descent. El Círculo provided a unique opportunity to reevaluate, and even “shed,” some of her own beliefs.50 The specific complexities of this latest project required Giadach to call upon all of her prior learning.51

In addition to reflecting on her understanding of theatre in general and her directing methods, Giadach also found that the creative process for El Círculo required that she hold firm to her belief in the value of “stage risk.” For Giadach, stage risk involves

exposing the unsaid, that which isn’t shown for reasons of political hygiene or personal morals, showing what it takes . . . Stage risk is always about putting the uncomfortable on stage, that which general . . . goes unsaid so as not to violate the established order.52

And this risk is very real for those creatives who choose to involve themselves in it. They may face discomfort or even rejection, during and after the performance.53 Importantly, rather than an attempt to convince an audience of certain “truths,” stage risk is an invitation, made to audience members, to consider other viewpoints. It is the courage to say “this is what I think. We invite you into this point of view.”54

Giadach recognizes that El Círculo required her to call upon one tool more than any other: “deep listening to the needs of the moment.”55 Giadach explains that this is a constant mental exercise in which one considers what works and what doesn’t, including in one’s own ideas. Deep listening requires, perhaps most of all, “maximum humility, in order to yield.”56

During the creative process for El Círculo, Giadach had to abandon many of her own ideas in

order to “carry out a project that was bigger than herself.”57 When asked to describe the present moment in her career, Giadach describes it as a place of “a certain maturity” because of her work on deep listening during El Círculo.58 Beyond listening to the needs of the moment and of other creatives, she also learned to listen to herself. Currently, Giadach is listening to herself by recognizing what she wants and “saving her energy” for projects that align with her deep needs.59

Core Beliefs about Theatre: Hegemonies and Subjective Movement

All Theatre as Political Theatre

For Giadach, all theatre is political because theatre is a collective artform, one that brings people together to work toward a common goal. Theatre’s collective nature makes it political because collectivity goes against the individualistic tenets of neoliberalism and capitalism. In Giadach’s view, capitalism negates the idea that human beings are social creatures and claims that humans are competitive individuals and individualists in nature.

Recognizing humans’ social nature has important ramifications for society:

If we say, no, human beings are social creatures by nature, we will also say, therefore, that the collective should be nurtured . . . and we need collective experience, rather than individualism, that ‘save yourself’ idea, or [the idea of] merit: I deserve this, and he doesn’t deserve this or that.60

For Giadach, the fact that theatre is a collective artform makes it subversive throughout the world but also very specifically in Chile, where neoliberalism and capitalism were forced upon the country through the Pinochet dictatorship.61 Furthermore, the mass protests over longstanding social inequality in Chile that erupted in October of 2019 have only bolstered

Giadach’s sense that all theatre is political.

Making Theatre More Political

Although Giadach sees theatre as inherently political, she also makes her own theatre more intentionally political. In reflecting on her conception of political theatre, Giadach recognizes that her conception has certain longstanding “pillars,” but that it also has a lot of

“discourse,” meaning that it is capable of transformation:

I believe that it’s not fixed, but rather it’s just a way of seeing reality and a way of seeing theatre and a way . . . of encountering myself, as well, as a director, as a playwright, and as an educator.62

Political philosophy and dialectics, as we will soon see, have certainly been pillars for

Giadach’s conception of political theatre. That said, she recognizes another pillar of her theatre practice, that of recognizing other, less rational knowledges:

It has to do with knowledge that is more ancestral, more feminine . . . the mythological, . . . and with rescuing this knowledge, and not just coming from a dialectical perspective, not just from a contradiction, but rather from the mysteriousness that we have in common, from the mystery that unites us. And this [knowledge] is inexplicable.63

Just like more rational knowledges, this inexplicable knowledge can manifest on stage, when

“the sounds, the silence, the gestures, emanate from a place that cannot be unwoven.”64

Giadach believes that this pillar of turning to mysterious knowledges has always played a role in her directing, and in engaging with this pillar, Giadach engages in an exercise of deconstructing the hegemonies within herself as a director. Rescuing ancestral knowledges requires her to admit that she doesn’t know everything, which is vital for a creative practice: “it isn’t fear; it’s simply recognizing that which isn’t known, . . . the dark places.”65 The idea of deconstructing hegemonies also relates to those pillars of political philosophy and dialectics in Giadach’s theatrical practice. Giadach has said that she aims to

“deconstruct certain hegemonies or erase the border between the center-periphery”66 in her

theatrical practice. Besides the hegemony of rational knowledge, what other hegemonies does Giadach seek to disrupt? What center-periphery? To better understand more of

Giadach’s particular take on political theatre, we must turn to political philosophy, particularly Edward Said’s Orientalism and decolonial theory, both of which give Giadach “a foundation for creation.”67

Palestine and Said as a Foundational Framework

Since Mi mundo patria, Giadach has actively utilized theatre to reflect on her

Palestinian heritage. Born of her identity is a theoretical approach for understanding the world, and it finds its foundation in Said’s Orientalism (1978). Edward Said (1935-2003) was a Jerusalem-born Palestinian-American scholar and specialist in modern comparative literature and a political activist, particularly for the rights of the Palestinian people.

Orientalism is his best-known publication and also “one of the most influential scholarly books of the twentieth century.”68 In it, Said examined Western rhetoric about the East across diverse sources and revealed Orientalism as “a style of thought based upon an ontological and epistemological distinction made between ‘Orient’ and ‘Occident’” that constitutes a complex web of discourse that permeates all layers of Western society including academic, public, and policy.69 Citing sources dating from Aeschylus’s The Persians in the fifth century

BC,70 Said reveals how non-Orientals have created artificial images that become longstanding and far-reaching symbols for the entire Orient (which is actually highly diverse).

Said argued that “neither the term Orient nor the concept of the West has any ontological stability; each is made up of human effort, partly affirmation, partly identification of the Other.”71 This East-West divide as a starting place for thought creates severe

limitations on thinking. Since there has been such long-term material investment in

Orientalism, it has become a default or “an accepted grid for filtering through the Orient into

Western consciousness.”72 In his introduction, Said presents Orientalism as

a distribution of geopolitical awareness into aesthetic, scholarly, economic, sociological, historical, and philological texts; it is an elaboration not only of a basic geographical distinction (the world is made up two unequal halves, Orient and Occident) but also of a whole series of ‘interests’ which . . . it not only creates but also maintains; it is . . . a certain will or intention to understand, in some cases to control, manipulate, even to incorporate, what is a manifestly different (or alternative and novel) world; it is, above all, a discourse that is . . . produced and exists in an uneven exchange with various kinds of power, shaped to a degree by the exchange with power political (as with a colonial or imperial establishment), power intellectual (as with reigning sciences like comparative linguistics or anatomy, or any of the modern policy sciences), power cultural (as with orthodoxies and canons of taste, texts, values), power moral (as with ideas about what “we” do and what “they” cannot do or understand as “we” do). Indeed, my real argument is that Orientalism is—and does not simply represent—a considerable dimension of modern political-intellectual culture, and as such has less to do with the Orient than it does with “our” world.73

Said’s theory of Orientalism has long been an influence on Giadach’s understanding of the world.

Decolonial Theory and “the Palestines of the World”

Although Palestine was an identity-based starting point for recognizing oppression in the world, Giadach has said that

Said is the starting point that makes me understand decolonial thought in Latin America . . . Thanks to this Palestine that has been present for me since my childhood, I can see the Palestines of the world. That is, it gives me a perspective. I don’t mean that I see it all, but it does provide me with a connection.74

Decolonial theory emerged at the turn of the twentieth century primarily among Latin

American scholars and traces its lineage from diverse currents in Latin American philosophy and social sciences. In general, decolonial theory can be understood as

the body of critical thought, produced by the ‘wretched of the earth’ (Fanon 1963), about the dark side of modernity, that seeks to transform not only the content of but

also the terms and conditions by which eurocentrism and coloniality has been reproduced in the world, making some human beings inferior (coloniality of being), marginalizing and rendering invisible whole systems of knowledge (coloniality of knowledge), and hierarchizing human groups and places in a power-based global world order for its exploitation in the interest of accumulating more capital (coloniality of power).75

Proponents of decolonial theory do not view the effects of colonialism as existing only in the past but assert, rather, that colonialism extends into the present in the form of coloniality.

Decolonial theory distinguishes between colonialism, “a form of political- administrative domination,” and its heritage, coloniality, which it defines as a system of power that normalizes hierarchies and fosters relationships based on domination.76

Coloniality “enables the capitalist exploitation, on a global scale, of some human beings by others” and “the subordination and obliteration of the knowledge, experiences, and ways of life of those who are dominated and exploited in this way.”77 Proponents of decolonial theory see coloniality as a direct result of the concept of modernity:

When something or someone is imagined or defined as modern, this at the same time implicitly signals a something or someone who isn’t. There is no us (modernity) without at the same time a defined non-us, a them (non-modernity).78

This distinction then provides the justification for intervention “in territories, human groups, knowledge, bodies, subjectivities, and practices, which, in their difference, are produced as non-modern.”79 Modernity, as it is presented, originates in Europe to be exported to the rest of the world. Decolonial theorists argue, however, that Europe, itself, is part of and a result of a worldwide geopolitical system and that “all knowledge has a historical, embodied, geopolitical position.”80

It is worth noting that decolonial theory is not a synonym for postcolonial theory.

While decolonial theory emerged around the turn of the twentieth century from the colonial

experiences of Latin America (colonized by Spain and Portugal from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries), postcolonial theory emerged in the 1970s and 80s from the colonial experiences of Asia and Africa (colonized by the French, British, and Germans from the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries). Decolonial and postcolonial theory share important commonalities like “the concern with how certain relationships of power associated with the historical experiences of colonial subjection have implications for our present” and the shared attempts to “tease out the implications in the theoretical and political imagination that define the ins and outs of our present.”81 Importantly, for our understanding of Giadach’s take on political theatre, Said’s Orientalism is widely considered a foundational work of postcolonial theory.

The Othering Overlap

Although decolonial theory and Said’s idea of Orientalism emerged from different world experiences, they share some foundational ideas that become central tenets in

Giadach’s understanding of political theatre. As shown above, decolonial theorists acknowledge decolonial theory’s similarities with postcolonial theory, particularly the shared concern over the extension of colonial power into the present day. For his part, Said explicitly recognizes that the relationship between East and West that he describes translates to other divisions: "No one can escape dealing with, if not the East/West division, then the

North/South one, the have/have-not one, the imperialist/anti-imperialist one, the white/colored one.”82 Although Said primarily explores the East/West divide and decolonial theorists challenge the modern/non-modern divide, these divides can be understood as specific manifestations of a shared foundational dichotomy: “Self/Other.” Further, both theories reveal how this division results in styles of thought and discourse about the Other

(Othering) that intersect with power and become justifications for myriad forms of oppressing the Other.

We can clearly identify a concern for the Self/Other divide in Giadach’s aforementioned goals of breaking up hegemonies and erasing the divide between center and periphery. Hegemonies represent preponderant influence or authority of a dominant group

(Self) over others (Other). Center-periphery, a sort of geographical hegemony, refers to

"relationships of inequality existing in geographical space” which have corresponding

“understandings and representations of self and other.” This idea of the Self/Other division is central to Giadach’s understanding of the world and political theatre. She believes that all theatre is political, "even more so if . . . it mobilizes this group of people within their own subjectivities seen from the perspective of their collectiveness."83 The relationship between

Self/Other is quite often fixed, so generating movement in this relationship makes theatre more political.

Giadach often refers to the idea of “movement” or “mobilization,” and understanding her meaning is essential to understanding her conception of political theatre. While the idea of transformation might imply a radical or total change, the idea of movement/mobilization includes the possibility of small changes.

Contradictions and Subjective Movement in a Political Practice

When it comes to putting political theatre into practice, this practice reflects

Giadach’s same political concerns of deconstructing hegemonies and erasing the boundary between center and periphery. A foundational principle that undergirds a political theatre practice is horizontality rather than hierarchy. Horizontality involves listening to and

considering all points of view on the topic, regardless of the person’s “role” within the production. In this sense, no creative in the room is othered.

This practice of horizontality gives birth to another central element of Giadach’s political theatre practice: contradictions. When all points of view in the room are sought and heard, the contradictions within the group reveal themselves. These contradictions refer to both the differences within the group and also the inconsistencies within each individual, and these contradictions often manifest themselves as conflict. Giadach asserts that contradictions must be valued and revealed so that they may enrich the production. Further, revealing and exploring these contradictions allows for the possibility that the individual artists may experience “movement” in their self-concepts because of the presence of and their interactions with the collective. For Giadach, all contradictions generate subjective movement.

The Trinity of the Actor/Being/Self

Within this horizontal working relationship, an actor assumes her character’s role, but she never leaves herself out of the creative equation. If an actor were to leave the Self behind in order to be wholly consumed with portraying a character, he wouldn’t be able to participate in the vital exploration of contradictions necessary for political theatre. When both the character and the individual person behind the role are always present, this dynamic generates

a unique being that is not separate, that is a state of consciousness, really, of being committed to this pretend play, while being the person that one is, with . . . the biography that one has always had in real life.84

This trinity, which Giadach calls the “actor/being/self,” allows for contradictions to reveal themselves “from within the very actor/being/self.”85

Directing as Organizing the Orchestra and Stimulating Conflict

This horizontal work dynamic evidently changing the relationship with the director from a hierarchical one to one in which the director exits on equal footing with the other creatives. If all different points of view are valued, what, then, becomes the role of the director?

On the one hand, the director has to act as an organizer of stage material because the group will often generate too much material. Even if all of this abundant material is excellent, the director must whittle it down. Rather than her personal agenda acting as the guide for selection, Giadach believes that a director should keep in mind the basic question or idea that the group has chosen to explore. This collective question or theme, which is extensively discussed, is the director’s beacon of selection. This collective thematic concern also guides the director’s selection and arrangement of all of the different aesthetic languages at play. Giadach describes this organization of aesthetic languages and stage material as

“organizing the orchestra.”86

Moreover, if contradictions are fundamental to the creative process and resulting production, then the director often has to "provide stimulus so that conflicts emerge,” and

Giadach asserts that this isn’t easy. As will be revealed in the case study, not only must directors not shy away from conflict, but they must also actively, though carefully and intentionally, encourage it. Further, if horizontality is implemented and resulting contradictions emerge, then the director will likely find herself a participant in the conflict, rather than mere onlooker. As risky as this may seem, the director’s subjective involvement also allows for the possibility that the director’s own subjectivity might shift in relation to the group.

Audience in Political Theatre

Giadach sees the audience as playing a fundamental role in theatre, explicitly political or otherwise:

Theatre reaches completion through the audience, when the audience member sees, witnesses, and participates in this theatrical experience, and there is a totality there, that has to do with the actors, the creators who participate in the staging and . . . generate this theatrical experience together with the audience members.87

Beyond this vital audience presence, though, Giadach sees how political theatre can interact with larger political contexts of which audience members are a part. Giadach supports street protests and other spontaneous forms of political action, but she also believes that theatre can complement and complete the political act of mass protest with reflection.88 Further, she believes that this reflection is necessary: "I believe very much in spontaneous mass action, but I also find it dangerous to simply do it without reflection in order to act in different ways later.”89 In this sense, political theatre, in its connection with the audience, can enrich outside political movements.

Giadach hopes to affect audience members by stimulating their ways of looking at present realities. That said, she does not attempt to change audience members’ views, but rather, she invites them to witness a point of view that is, perhaps, different than theirs. In this way, the performance becomes an invitation into other viewpoints and into a consideration of one’s own viewpoints.90 This consideration of one’s own viewpoints is, essentially, critical thinking, and Giadach indeed strives to make theatrical experiences that unleash critical and political thought. By political, Giadach means the broadest sense of the word, which for her, has to do with community. She wants to help audiences "become enchanted with community again.”91 By inviting audience members to consider their own

and others’ viewpoints, Giadach hopes to stimulate movement in audience members’ understanding of their own subjectivities in the world. Valuing the artists’ contradictions and stimulating conflict are the surest methods for affecting the audience in this way. As Giadach sees it, the groups’ own contradictions will traverse the production and reach the audience, and all contradictions create movement. Rather than attempting to generate subjective movement within audience members by providing them with answers, the artists reveal their own contradictions and in so doing, offer audience members “mobilizing questions."92

Political Aesthetics

As already mentioned with regard to La lluvia de verano and Mi mundo patria,

Giadach believes that aesthetics can also be political. She believes that "aesthetics are political in the sense that they contain a great amount of content.”93 A political aesthetic, then, would reflect her same goals in political theatre:

Aesthetics have to mobilize in the same direction, whether toward reflection or a previously hidden point of view . . . It should reveal something that wasn’t visible beforehand. And this thing that wasn’t visible beforehand always, generally speaking, has to do with power, with hegemony, with the center-periphery, or revealing . . . the inner workings of our society.94

Here again we see the concern with the Self/Other dichotomy implicit in an understanding of hegemonies and center-periphery relationships and can appreciate that political aesthetics share the same goals of political theatre more generally. Interestingly, the same contradictions so necessary to the creative process of political theatre also have relevance here. Giadach believes that a given production can contain aesthetic languages that operate in contradiction with one another: “not everything must always say the same thing.”95 These contradictions, just as the aesthetic itself, are presented in order to create movement in audience members’ subjectivity.

Conclusion: Giadach’s Conception of Political Theatre

For Giadach, all theatre is political because its collective nature pushes back against the individualistic tenets of neoliberalism and capitalism. Giadach believes that theatre becomes even more political when hegemonies are deconstructed, the border between the center-periphery is disrupted, and when movement is generated in participants’ or audience members’ understandings of their own subjectivities in relation to the Other. Practices of political theatre rely on horizontality, which requires decentralizing the role of the director and allowing for all points of view to be considered. This horizontal practice allows for the contradictions within the creative group to reveal themselves. These contradictions then enrich the production and reach audience members, and it is precisely these contradictions that make subjective movement possible.

Directing Case Study: El Círculo

The Performance

With projections, puppetry, song, and dance, El Círculo (The Circle) follows a group of Chilean actors, some Jewish and some Palestinian, as they wade through their conflicts of identity and loyalty and attempt to create a work of theatre together.

The setting that anchors the performance is the actors’ rehearsal space: an intimate living room, with a coffee table and chairs over a warm red rug and a side table with an electric burner and Turkish coffee pot. Here we see three Jewish actors (named Jew 1, 2, and

3) and three Palestinian actors (named Palestinian 1, 2, and 3) meet, somewhat awkwardly, for the first time. They live in the tension of cultural differences and competing priorities, occasionally unite over common ground (belly dancing), and very rarely join in mutual lament (belly dancing does not equal Shakira).

As the actors propose their individual performance ideas to the ensemble, the living room setting ebbs and flows, often transforming into distant spaces through the use of a projection screen, faintly etched with a map of Israel and Palestine. The projection screen, located stage left and on a diagonal, rolls to the floor and continues outward through the middle of the playing space, under the on-stage carpet, spilling out toward the audience.

Maps of Israel, Gaza, Moldovia, and more are projected behind cast members as they tell their families’ histories and advocate for their particular performance approaches. In other moments, faded archival photos of cast members’ ancestors are projected, which allows the cast the comical opportunity to reenact them, all while commiserating under their breath as they discover their distressed family members in the crowd. In another use of projection, a small astronaut puppet is maneuvered by three of the actors, while a fourth cast member kneels on the ground and follows the tiny astronaut face with a mini flashlight, before a projection of outer space.

Sometimes transitions are marked with thundering Middle Eastern music and the quick shuffling of bodies in space, while other transitions occur gradually, with the living room fading away as the actors, often begrudgingly, agree to rehearse possible scenes. In one moment of rehearsal an Israeli soldier puts down his weapon and sits on the ground to join a

Palestinian protestor for coffee, and the soldier even thanks him in the Arabic he’s been practicing. Another scene is ripped from the headlines: a blindfolded Palestinian boy on his knees is killed by Israelis. This scene ends abruptly, before reaching completion, as one of the Jewish actors retreats: he doesn’t want to do this. He’s not a killer.

Much of El Círculo is quite intense, but some of it is truly funny. There’s the Jewish actor who can’t handle the strong Turkish coffee in rehearsal. There’s the Palestinian actor

who quips that, sure, they can situate the performance in Chile as long as the 1973 military coup is the Nakba.* One of the Jewish actors, himself a lover of musical comedy, sings a hilarious musical number about Zionism that, in the words of one of the Palestinian actresses,

“is so bad, it’s good.” Live music permeates the performance, with the cast singing

Palestinian and Israeli songs, and still other songs from the Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jewish traditions.

What results is a raw and uniquely vulnerable grappling with identity, both individual and collective, and one that directly challenges audience members to confront their own prejudices. Early in the performance, the cast formed a line and faced the audience, and a narrator asked us, “We are a group of Chileans, some Jewish and some Palestinian. Seeing us side by side, can you tell who is Jewish and who is Palestinian?”96 They held a long pause as the actors’ eyes surveyed the audience, and on the evening I attended, a voice called out from behind me, “yes!” A few scenes later, the production brilliantly reveals that we have been duped: one of the supposedly Jewish actors and one of the supposedly Palestinian actors trade places.

* See footnote p. 16. 43

Figure 13. Recreating archival photos in El Círculo. Photograph by Rafael Guendelman Hales, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager.

Figure 14. Living room setting in El Círculo. Photograph by Andrés Olivares, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager. 44

Figure 15. Attacking and resisting in El Círculo. Photograph by Rafael Guendelman Hales, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager.

Figure 16. Astronaut puppet in El Círculo. Photograph by Andrés Olivares, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager. 45

Figure 17. Reenacting a headline in El Círculo. Photograph by Rafael Guendelman Hales, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager.

Figure 18. Singing competition in El Círculo. Photograph by Rafael Guendelman Hales, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager.

Figure 19. Returning to Palestine in El Círculo. Photograph by Rafael Guendelman Hales, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager. Approaching El Círculo

Contradictions by Design

Giadach, herself a Chilean of Palestinian descent, joined forces with Alejandra Díaz

Scharager,* a Chilean of Jewish descent, to develop El Círculo, and this unique co-directing partnership has been Giadach’s first. Díaz and Giadach had not worked together prior to collaborating on El Círculo, but both were familiar with one another’s work. Díaz had seen

Mi mundo patria (My Homeworld) some ten years prior, and around the same time, Giadach had seen Díaz play the role of L’il Bit in a Spanish-language production of Paula Vogel’s

How I Learned to Drive. Díaz, a fellow acting alumna of a later generation of the

* Alejandra Sofía Díaz Scharager (b. 1987) is a Chilean theatre, film, and television actress, producer, and educator who, in addition to her work on El Círculo, is known for her acting work in Polvo eres (2018), Las nanas (2018), El efecto (2016-2017), and ¿Quién es Chile? (2014), among other works. She also wrote, produced, and starred in Cada vez que digo mama: Primera fase (2018), and is currently working on another iteration of the work. 47

Universidad de Chile,* shares Giadach's belief in theatre’s ability to provoke change,97 and both she and Giadach shared a desire to create a work with a joint creative team of

Palestinian and Jewish Chileans.

In their first meeting about the project, Díaz proposed that they gather a group of creatives to stage a previously written text, and that the group’s mixed identities, half of

Palestinian descent and half of Jewish descent, would inherently make the project political.

Andrea, however, offered a counterproposal, which Díaz accepted: “we can’t just talk about anything and allow our being together to say something . . . instead of doing just any play together, let’s do research, and let the research reveal what we should stage.”98 Díaz was interested in working on a collaborative project like El Círculo specifically because she had only recently discovered her family in Israel.99 For Giadach’s part, she is a strong believer in dialectic, and she was interested in confronting two such opposing viewpoints.100 And here we see how contradictions, such a fundamental part of Giadach’s understanding of political theatre, were not only revealed and stimulated during the creative process, but they were also built into El Círculo by design before the project had even begun.

This equal directing partnership was important for balance in the project. As Giadach puts it, it was a "necessary exercise, both for symmetry and to lower defenses, whether in audience or cast members, to generate trust.”101 And she stresses, "It was not comfortable for me . . . but it was beautiful."102 According to Giadach, both Díaz and she are “impetuous” and “obsessive,” and they both worked long hours together and separately outside of rehearsal time in order to bring the project to fruition.103 Each contributed her unique

* See footnote p. 12. 48

experiences to the directing partnership: Giadach’s years of experience in political theatre and Díaz’s long-honed production skills. In spite of how personally difficult the project was for everyone involved, Giadach believes that Díaz and she were able to succeed because they constantly supported one another, in spite of how hard it was for them.104

Figure 20. Andrea Giadach (left) and Alejandra Díaz Scharager (right). Photograph by Noli Provoste, 2020. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Díaz Scharager.

Methodological Beginnings

Instead of gathering a group of Palestinian and Jewish Chileans to work on a given play together, Giadach and Díaz agreed that they should "do research, and let the research reveal what we should stage.”105 As they discussed possibilities for the project, the two shared their own personal histories: “we talked about where her Palestinian family was from, where my Jewish family was from, and we showed each other pictures of our great-

grandparents.”106 This initial sharing of personal histories became an integral starting point for the group.

An Invitation to Change with Respect for Boundaries

The co-directors gathered a group of Palestinian and Jewish actors and proposed a performance piece developed from an exploration of personal histories combined with historical and contemporary research. The actors accepted this unique and challenging proposal, and Giadach believes that it was crucial that Díaz and she also “offered them the freedom to participate only as far as they could.”107 With the knowledge of this freedom to leave the project at any point, the directors also specified that the project constituted an opportunity to change certain points of view, particularly those related to "the way in which we interact with the Other.”108 In this aspect of the project, we clearly see how the idea of subjective movement based on contact with the Other was also expressly built into the design of the project.

Even though this invitation to change subjective modifications was sincerely extended to all participants, Jewish and Palestinian, Giadach was explicit from the beginning that she knew certain views of hers would not change. Although she was open to change and hearing from the other side, she knew that being pro-Palestine for her is an “essential ethic” that would not change.109 This open and honest expression of personal limits seems to have been necessary for a project that was built on the likelihood of intense conflict due to inherent contradictory beliefs in the group. In light of Giadach’s beliefs about political theatre and subjective movement, I see Giadach’s sharing of her essential, unshakeable beliefs as part of the invitation to subjective movement, rather than an exception. In a way, her delineation of unchanging beliefs may prompt participants to ask themselves: which of

my beliefs are integral to my sense of self? Which of my beliefs might I be willing to reconsider? These questions are the essence of the self-assessment that the project would entail for all participants.

Early Working Methods

Biographies

The group began by sharing their personal and family histories, and in retrospect,

Díaz realized that

in this way everything was much friendlier because we established a foundation of understanding and basic empathy: we are all the children of immigrants who came here to escape something. They came from different places, but . . . deep down we have something in common, and we established that first. And only later did we delve into those points that divide us.110

This creative strategy of beginning with personal biographies certainly makes sense given that the goal of the project was participants’ subjective movements with regard to the Other.

This starting point allows for participants to encounter one another first as unique individuals rather than as a generic Other, which would likely have occurred if an expression of beliefs about Israel and Palestine had served as a starting point. It is important to note, however, that even this initial personal sharing revealed contradictions in the group, but these contradictions weren’t yet explicity explored, meaning that many participants "kept many things silent, so as not to dive head-first into the quandary.”111

With this careful approach, the group was able to identify similarities across their immigrant histories: blind grandparents, great maternal figures, and grandfathers named

Abraham.112 Further and perhaps most significantly, the group realized that they all had certain fears and certain group loyalties built into their identities. As Giadach puts it, they

"saw that there was a lot of fear, fear on the part of the Palestinians of betraying what was

going on in Palestine and seeming like normalizers or traitors, and fear on the part of the

Jewish members of betraying the community narrative of the defense of Israel” because of the Holocaust and other persecutions of Jewish people.113 Not only did this strategy, then, facilitate participants’ encountering one another as individuals rather than as Other, but it also allowed the group to detect commonalities, and in so doing, create a new collective identity that included the Other.

Field work

The group’s exploration also included field research whenever interesting opportunities arose.114 The first opportunity came about in December of 2017 when the

Palestinian Federation organized a protest in response to Trump’s decision to move the U.S.

Embassy in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Giadach proposed this initial protest visit

“because [her] body and the bodies of the other Palestinians present . . . wanted to be there.”115 She was also careful and intentional, specifying that cast members were free to participate in the protest or simply observe the protest.116 Some cast members were worried that participating could lead the group to disband,117 and in this fear, we can observe that the group had already established a collective identity and affect despite their differences. Many in the group, both Jewish and Palestinian, attended. This and other field work proved crucial for “helping us understand the Other outside of the context of the group throughout the process. Because the group is an isolated unit, and once we got to know each other, we began to feel fond of one another,” according to Díaz.118 This and other field work reveals a gradual attempt to expose and stimulate contradictions by widening the group’s lens beyond the project. Through observation and participation, participants gained an experiential understanding of the Other’s culture and concerns.

Other significant field visits occurred during Passover, which commemorates the liberation of the Jewish people when they were led out of Egypt by Moses. The group had the option to attend two different Seders,* first in Díaz’s family’s home and then in a Jewish community center.119 As for Giadach’s decision to participate, she approached it as a personal exercise of “entering the Jewish universe, which for [her] was a way of respecting

Judaism and its traditions.”120 Moments of surprise at herself, i.e. “I cannot believe that I am doing this,” were coupled with fear upon arrival at the community center, though this fear soon passed.121At the community center, there were two moments that stand out in Giadach’s memory. First, Giadach heard a reading about the liberation of the Jewish people, which talks about “the liberation of peoples,” and she reflected on how this belief is not currently practiced with regard to Palestine.122 Second was the singing of the Israeli national anthem which, when Díaz explained what the song was, Giadach opted not to sing, having decided,

“no, enough, not this.”123 Here again we see a commitment to gaining experiential knowledge of the Other while maintaining respect for individual limits. In this same vein, it is worth noting that one of the Palestinian actors decided not to attend the Passover celebrations.

Giadach shares that this decision was made not out of anger but out of his reflection that he could not "celebrate the liberation of a people as long as Palestine couldn’t celebrate its liberation.”124

Further, it is important to note how this particular field visit affected Díaz, who had extended the invitation to attend Seders in her home and community center. According to

Díaz, the Seder ceremony is highly ritualistic, and so she has heard the same ceremonial texts

* A Seder is a Jewish home or community ritual service that includes a ceremonial dinner. Depending on the cultural context and particular community, Seder is either held once, on the first evening of Passover, or twice, on the first and second evenings of Passover. Seder comes from Hebrew and means “order.” 53

read over and over again throughout her life. Passover in 2018, however, was different. The cast and creatives of El Círculo had already been in rehearsal for several months and had already shared their personal biographies and begun sharing research. Díaz was surprised to find that “all of a sudden, they were reading that which is read every year, but this time, [she] heard it differently.”125 For the first time, Díaz reflected on how the ritual’s emphasis on a people’s freedom “didn’t resonate with Israel’s oppression of the Palestinians,”126 and she wondered, “how do all the Jews who surround me, who celebrate Passover with me every year, how do we not hear this?”127 Díaz is grateful to the project for “opening her ears” in this regard, and she says that Passover that year, “for the first time, for me, it became the

Festival of Freedom, but for everyone.”128

The following year, El Círculo was still in rehearsal, and Díaz shared the Haggadah of the Jewish Voice for Peace,* which explicitly references Palestine throughout the ceremony. The text includes the words of poet and activist, Aurora Levins Morales: “This time we cannot cross until we carry each other. All of us refugees, all of us prophets . . . because this time no one will be left to drown and all of us must be chosen. This time it’s all of us or none.”129 The text also edits the ending of the ceremony, which traditionally ends with the call, “Next Year in Jerusalem!” to read “Next Year in Jerusalem! Next Year in al-

Quds! Next year in a City of Peace!”130 Although this Haggadah makes the call for the liberation of all peoples more explicit, Díaz asserts that this universality is inherent to the ritual, itself, but “we all understand it as if it were only for the Jews.”131 The group would

* Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) is a U.S.-based grassroots organization that traces its roots to the mid-1990s. JVP takes its inspiration from Jewish tradition to achieve a lasting peace for Palestinians and Israelis and advocates for “an end to the Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Gaza Strip, and East Jerusalem.” To read JVP’s complete mission statement, visit https://jewishvoiceforpeace.org/mission/. 54

still be in rehearsal for another year, but Díaz’s reflection on her Passover experience of 2018 provides powerful early evidence of subjective movement.

Invited guests

Another way that the group made sure to be in contact with realities and points of view outside the group was to invite community representatives to share their insights. The group hosted many such guests including Maria Fernanda Vomero, a Brazilian theatre artist who has researched theatre in the West Bank and in a refugee camp in Jenin.132 The group also received Rabbi Diego Edelberg, of a progressive Jewish community in Santiago, who presented on Judaism. Daniel Jadue, mayor of Recoleta in Santiago, shared about the cosmovisions of monotheisms.133 Dr. Patricio Cumsille, a psychologist who works at

Santiago’s Catholic University didn’t present as much as he listened to the group and suggested relevant resources.134 Human rights lawyer Nadia Silhi shared her international legal perspective on Palestine in addition to her involvement with the BDS movement.* The group also hosted a visit from Valeria Navarro and Jorge Zeballos, of the Centro Progresista

Judío (Progressive Jewish Center), who consider themselves “leftist Zionists.”135 This visit prompted questions about the specifics of Zionism, and all of these visits, as much as they were the result of questions, also prompted more questions and avenues for research.136

Many of these visits stimulated the emergence of contradictions within the group as participants would question or debate with the guests.

One particularly impactful visit led to the generation of material included in the final performance. The group received a visit from Claudio Mandler and his partner, Paula

* Launched in 2005, the BDS (Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions) Movement is a global Palestinian-led movement that aims to pressure Israel to comply with international law. 55

Calderón.137 Calderón, a journalist, instructor, and doctoral student affiliated with the Jewish

Studies Center of the Universidad de Chile, specializes in Hannah Arendt and Jewish thought. Mandler’s background, and one particular anecdote, were fascinating to the group.

Mandler’s family fled from Chile to Israel during the Pinochet dictatorship when he was only twelve years old. Upon his graduation from high school, Mandler served several years as a soldier in the Israeli Defense Forces before attending college and working for the Hashomer

Hatzair* movement, which brought him back to Chile. He no longer identifies as Zionist, and he has since become critical of Israel.

After Mandler’s visit, the group maintained contact with him and one day came across a fascinating anecdote, shared on Facebook, from Mandler’s time in the Israeli

Defense Forces while the Oslo Accords were being negotiated in the 1990s. One day when

Mandler and a group of fellow soldiers were on duty in Gaza, a group of Bedouins† were preparing coffee and motioned for the soldiers to come over. Though Mandler and his group were afraid and doubtful, they accepted the Bedouins’ offer, and the two groups drank coffee together and communicated in improvised sign language due to the language barrier. This anecdote was theatricalized and transformed into stage material. In the scene, a Gazan invites an Israeli soldier to drink coffee, and as they talk, both quote Darwish’s‡ poetry to one another. Perhaps surprised, the Gazan asks the soldier where he learned:

GAZAN: Where did you learn?

* According to the Jewish Virtual Library (a project of the American-Israeli Cooperative Enterprise), Hashomer Hatzair is Zionist youth movement that was founded on the eve of World War I. Díaz describes it as one of multiple leftist Zionist movements. † Bedouins are Arabic-speaking nomadic peoples of the Middle East and North African deserts. ‡ Mahmoud Darwish (1942-2008) was a Palestinian poet from al-Birwa in Galilee. Known as the Palestinian national poet, he is internationally renowned. He published some thirty collections of prose and poetry that have been translated into more than twenty languages. His work includes Leaves of Olives (1964), The Music of Human Flesh (1980), Psalms (1995), and The Butterfly’s Garden (2006). 56

CLAUDIO: Not in school.

GAZAN: You can’t help seeing them.

CLAUDIO: No, I can’t. The stench of the sewage in the streets, the despair, the hatred in the eyes of children, adults, and the elderly. My friends in their graves...

GAZAN: Drink the coffee I made for you. That’s why you’re here.

CLAUDIO: Shukran.* I’m trying to learn, but I always get distracted and [the coffee] always boils over.

GAZAN: If I survive the great march† tomorrow, we will drink coffee together.

CLAUDIO: Insh allah.‡

GAZAN: If not, you will teach my children, because their mother will be very sad.§

CLAUDIO: Shalom** to you.

GAZAN: Allah mak.††,138

Díaz describes Mandler’s visit as a turning point in the group’s work, as it provided them with access to a Jewish voice that was critical of Israel.

Individual research and movie club sessions

The group’s methods also included research presentations by individual group members. Constantino Marzuqa presented on Edward Said’s Orientalism, and Juan Carlos

Saffie presented on the history of certain European wars.139 For her part, Giadach presented on decoloniality and dialectics.140 Beyond presentations, all group members were actively

”.meaning “thank you , ﺮﻜﺷ ا Shukran is a transliteration of the Arabic * † The Great March of Return returns to Friday protests, begun in January of 2018, in which Palestinians gathered near the fence between Gaza and Israel to return to their pre-Nakba homes. ٰ ”.meaning “If God wills” or “God willing ,إِ ْن َﺷﺎ َء ٱ ﱠ%ُ Insh allah is a transliteration of the Arabaic ‡ § The Gazan means that Claudio will teach his children how to make Arabic coffee. ”.meaning “peace , לש ו ם Shalom is a transliteration of the Hebrew ** ”.meaning “May God be with you ,ﷲ ﻚﻌﻣ Allah mak is a transliteration of the Arabic †† 57

engaged in individual research involving reading books and news reports or watching movies, and this often led to requests that the entire group review a certain source of information.141 This aspect of the group’s methods clearly reflects Giadach’s belief in horizontality: rather than research being handed down from a director or dramaturg, research was passed around the group from multiple sources. In a similar vein, the group would gather outside rehearsal for “movie club sessions” during which they would watch suggested documentaries and other movies including Hany Abu-Assad's Paradise Now (2005); Emad

Burnat and Guy Davidi’s 5 Broken Cameras (2011); Stephen Apkon and Andrew Young’s

Disturbing the Peace (2016); and Carlos Bover and Julio Pérez del Campo’s Gaza (2017).

True to Giadach’s belief that horizontality allows for contradictions to arise, one of these movie sessions provoked a productive and determining “crisis” in the group.142

Crisis and the Birth of New Methods

During one movie club session, the group watched Annemarie Jacir’s 2008 film Salt of this Sea (2008, original title: Milh Hadha al-Bahr). The film follows Palestinian-American

Soraya as she returns to Palestine and attempts to recover her grandfather’s savings and visit her grandparents’ home, now occupied by Irit, a young Israeli woman. Irit allows Soraya and a friend, Marwan, to stay in the house for “as long as they like.”143 Heated discussions over one particular scene divided the group sharply along identity lines:

[Soraya approaches Irit who is making juice in the kitchen.]

SORAYA I want to buy my house from you.

IRIT You can’t. The state owns it. And the Jewish National Fund, they won’t sell to non- Jews.

SORAYA I’ll convert.

IRIT It won’t work.

[Phone rings. Irit answers and briefly speaks before hanging up.]

IRIT You OK?

SORAYA Yeah. I’m fine.

Irit waters a plant.

SORAYA This is my home. It was stolen from my family. So, it’s for me to decide if you can stay. And you can.

IRIT Are you serious?

SORAYA My father should have been raised in this house, not in a fucking camp.

IRIT You want to speak about history, the past. Let’s forget it.

SORAYA Your past is my every day. My right now. This is not your home.

IRIT It is now.

SORAYA You can stay, if you admit all of this is stolen.

IRIT I can stay? This was your grandfather’s home. They left.

SORAYA They were forced to!

MARWAN

Take it easy, girl.

SORAYA They didn’t want to leave! My grandfather laid down this floor. What does that mean to you?

IRIT She’s crazy. I’m extending a hand to you. I invited you to stay. I’m being friendly.

SORAYA Our windows, our doors, our fucking house! Admit it!

IRIT Get out of my house.

[Soraya goes to a flower vase, picks it up, and throws it on the ground.]

SORAYA Recognize it.

[Irit goes to phone and begins to dial. End scene.]144

During the intense discussion that followed, one side criticized Soraya’s violence and asserted that she didn’t have the right to take back the house. The other half of the group argued that Soraya didn’t actually want to reclaim the house, but rather she simply wanted for Irit to admit that the house had been stolen. They argued that this distinction was important “because once you admit it, there is a first step, . . . but we can’t move forward if it’s just like, ‘no, stay, there are no problems in my house, stay.’”145 This argument was met with the following counterargument: “For how long? For how many more generations are we going to be charged with this? This young girl, it wasn’t she who expelled her grandparents during the Nakba.* What about that?”146 Rather than retreat from the conflict, true to

* See footnote p. 16. 60

Giadach’s beliefs, the directors opted to pursue the conflict further: they decided to have the group reenact the scene.147

A reenactment

Giadach describes the thinking behind the decision to reenact the scene in this way:

"It was to create tension, tense everything. And it was time, too, to stop being so polite, because we had established a good relationship, rooted in affection, founded on listening, but there was something there that couldn’t be said openly, and that was what the movie triggered. We were very much on guard all of the time. It was an interesting experience because it allowed us to get it out it finally. And this all didn’t come about because of the movie, but rather because we staged the scene.”148

During the reenactment, any cast member, regardless of heritage, could represent either of the two characters, and they were also allowed to improvise around the text. According to

Giadach, this ability to improvise allowed for contradictions and “defensive arguments” to surface.149

Looking back on the reenactment, the general consensus is that for the Palestinian cast members, this was “just another exercise," but for the Jewish cast members, this was not the case.150 As Díaz puts it, the Jewish creatives were quiet and “downcast,” and reenacting the scene, or even listening to it, had been horrible for all of them. Although they felt this way, they didn’t say anything at the time.151 Even though the Jewish cast members didn’t express these feelings, Giadach explains that she knew that something was happening because when Jewish cast members played the Israeli character, the scene became dense and slow-moving and wouldn’t flow or advance. What she remembers most of all, though, is a strong feeling of fatigue and resistance.152 Delving further into the conflict, rather than leaving the argument behind after the movie discussion, was certainly stirring up additional contradictions.

Separate meetings

After this difficult rehearsal, Pablo Manzi* made a helpful suggestion. Though

Manzi’s official title was “playwriting consultant,” he served an important role on the creative team as he is neither Jewish nor Palestinian.153 Throughout the process, he acted as mediator and referee and helped Giadach and Díaz dialogue when they weren’t able to see eye to eye. After the tense reenactment, Manzi asked, "why don’t you hold separate meetings, one for Jewish members and another for Palestinian members? Because you’ve spent all of this time together.”154 The group consented.

Since the scene hadn’t caused much conflict for them, Giadach and the Palestinian cast members gathered together and had a relatively upbeat meeting in which they discussed numerous creative ideas for the project’s next stages.155 Díaz and the Jewish cast members, however, had a very different experience. Their collective venting revealed that they all felt like they were being used. They agreed that they weren’t Israelis and asked, "Why do they put me up there? I’m not the oppressor . . . Why do they make me play this Israeli?” This line of conversation then allowed them to reflect on the contradictions the exercise had brought up for them: "this idea of being Jewish, utilizing one’s body for the Israeli narrative, to agree or not to agree with the Israeli narrative, and to ask oneself that, too.”156

During the separate group meeting, the Jewish cast members also read the text of the

Basic Law: Israel as the Nation-State of the Jewish People,† passed in July 2018. As Díaz

* Pablo Manzi is a prominent Chilean playwright and director, author of numerous plays including Una lucha contra... (2020; translated into English by William Gregory as A Fight Against) Tú amarás, Donde viven los bárbaros, and Amansadura. He founded Santiago-based theatre company Bonobo Teatro with Andreina Olivari in 2012. † The text of the Basic Law: Israel as the Nation-State of the Jewish People begins: “1. The State of Israel, a) Israel is the historical homeland of the Jewish people in which the state of Israel was established; b) The state of Israel is the nation-state of the Jewish people, in which it actualizes its natural, religious, and historical right for 62

puts it, this law "essentially determines that Israel is exclusively for the Jewish people. And anyone else will be granted a special status,” and after reading it, the group agreed that it was

“completely racist.”157 They then asked themselves, "how can we keep defending this?”158

These meetings provided space for any previously unexpressed feelings to be explored in a setting in which the Other wasn’t present. This isolated setting made possible a crucial moment of reflection. Since the Other wasn’t present, there was less need for defensive rhetoric, which allowed for both a reflection on the contradictions brought up during the process and subjective reflection.

Coming back together

The following group meeting allowed for team members to take stock of the experiences to date.159 The two smaller groups sat in a line face-to-face, as Díaz and the

Jewish cast members shared the concerns that had arisen for them over playing the oppressors. Giadach and the Palestinian cast members listened, asked follow-up questions, and shared that their experiences of the reenactment had been very different, and that no one had wanted to make them the “bad guys.”160 As Giadach explains, the resolution of this meeting entailed clarifying and making explicit a delineation of cast members’ multiple roles:

It was very important to me that we recognize, and this I owe to all of my prior directing and teaching experience, that it was necessary to separate the stage material from our biographies. Even though we were utilizing our biographies, . . . [these] became stage material, and that material played a role in the staging that meant that it wasn’t just the actor playing himself, but rather the actor playing a character of himself in service of a theatrical becoming.161

self-determination; c) The actualization of the right of national self-determination in the state of Israel is unique to the Jewish people.”For more of the English-language translation, see https://jewishvirtuallibrary.org/israel-s- basic-laws-the-israel-nation-state-law.

This conflict marks a significant group moment in which all members recognized just how difficult it was to examine their own subjectivities in the light of the near constant contradictions of the project.162

Manifestos and individual interviews

At this point the directors proposed that cast members draft personal manifestos in which they shared their individual perspectives and visions for the project. Giadach explains that this next step was important because the group was tangled up in vague ideological postures, and as a result, the group didn’t know exactly where each individual stood with regard to Israel and Palestine.163 Knowledge of the cast members’ unique individual stances would allow for the play in development to advance with a collective stance.164 Each manifesto was to include statements like “I believe this . . . I do not believe this . . . I want to explore this . . . I imagine this project as . . .”165 Through reading their manifestos to the group, the individual voices of each member began to crystallize.166

As an example, I include excerpts from Díaz’s manifesto, which she drafted on

August 8, 2018. Díaz begins by clarifying how her motivations have changed since the project’s beginning:

I begin this project from a place of naiveté. I begin because my intuition tells me to. Because, in having met my family, I want peace for them. I find meaning in theatre again.

Today I continue because . . . because I need to question my identity. Because I feel a social responsibility. You can’t see and not act.167

And finally, she delves into her own difficulties as they relate to the project:

Seeing myself as the oppressor unsettles me, because I believe that I am one unless I do something. Seeing and not acting. The oppressor lives within the accomplice . . . My Israeli family unsettles me. My Jewish-Chilean family.

My point of view, my ethical stance, these unsettle me . . .

I don’t know where my limits are today. I really don’t know. They’re there, I know they’re there, it’s hard for me to define their territory . . . territory. Israel-Palestine- Chile. United States. Spain. I don’t want to do a play about the conflict. I don’t want to betray my family. I don’t care about my Chilean aunts. I’m talking about my mom, my uncle Amir. I don’t want my Israeli family to hate me. But they’ll understand. I’m not them. What are the implications of this loyalty?

It’s an occupation. There is ethnic cleansing. It’s asymmetrical. Has it always been colonization?168

We clearly get a sense of Díaz’s unique stance through the exercise (occupation, ethnic cleansing) and her unique concerns (I don’t want my Israeli family to hate me). These are examples of the clarity that the directors hoped to gain through the manifesto-writing exercise. Further, Díaz’s manifesto clearly reveals evidence of subjective movement, in addition to her own awareness of it: Díaz sees her inaction as making her an accomplice to the oppression.

According, some manifestos were clearer than others, so Giadach and Díaz opted to conduct interviews together with each cast member in order to be sure they understood the individual positions across the group. In these interviews, they asked very direct and specific questions like, “What do you think about the state of Israel?” so as to gather the most accurate picture of the diversity of the group members’ positions.169 This knowledge was then used to propose exercises to the group, the first of which was to ask cast members to convert their written manifestos into staged manifestos.170

These manifestos allowed the cast members to engage in yet another exercise in horizontality in which contradictions were again nurtured as different viewpoints became

clearer. Further, this practice of sharing individual’s writing with the group paved the way for including individually-authored texts in the final performance. As an example, cast member

Samantha Manzur* wrote a text in response to a news article in 2019. Near the end of the play, she performs a portion of this text in which she imagines returning to Palestine:

We’re going to go back to the border, and we’re going to try to enter. And when a soldier says to us, “You can’t come in,” I’m going to say, “What do you mean we’re not going to come in, if we’ve never left, stupid? And the soldier is going to say to me, “are you fucking with me, ma’am?” And I’m going to say, “No.” And the soldier is going to look at me with that murderer’s face of his, and he’s going to say, “We’re going to kill you, ma’am.” And I’m going to say, “Kill me with your God damn Uzi. It doesn’t matter what happens to my flesh, because I’ve always been alive. We’re going to reproduce like marginals, like thugs, the ones who bring children into the world, just bringing them in, here, here, here, by the shovelfuls. There will be thousands of us, millions, we will be a plague, and we will fill the deserts and our homes. And if we don’t do it in our own bodies, we’ll come back in other bodies, in the children of our children, in the children of their children and their children . . . just like that, until we no longer give a damn about reincarnating ourselves! We will be alive, because even when we’re dead, you’ll still see us, because wherever you live, our bodies will be there, and your houses will forever smell of the dead.171

That an individual cast member might draft a portion of the final play text is perhaps the ultimate proof of the project’s deep investment in horizontality.

An example of new exercises: the nightmare exercise

After clarifying cast members’ diverse positions with regard to Israel and Palestine, in addition to their goals for the project, the group was able to proceed with new, more tailored exercises. As one example, the group engaged in an exercise in which each cast member staged his or her own worst nightmare as it related to the project.172 This exercise was

* Samantha Manzur (b. 1987) is a Chilean actress, director, and alumna of Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile and the graduate program in Performance Practice as Research of The Royal Central School of Speech and Drama of the University of London. Her research centers the performativity of the archive and include her directing projects The Procaryotic (2014), which utilizes photographic materials from the first production of Waiting for Godot in London in 1955, and Cuerpo pretérito (2018), a revisitation of one of the most iconic Chilean theatre works of theatre, La negra Ester (written by Roberto Parra, first published in 1980; directed by Andrés Pérez Araya of El Gran Circo Teatro theatre company in 1988). 66

designed to convert fear, one of the recurring themes of their work, into stage material.173

Cast member Moisés Norambuena brought in an original musical number, “The Enemy of

Zionism,” that was inserted into the final performance:

JEW 1 Soon they’ll kick you out Far from the community To hell you’ll go Enemy of Zionism Welcome Enemy of Zionism. You’re lost, This hell starts here The nightmare I’ll recount to you, happened a while ago, I was in the community. Netanyahu approached me and pointed his finger at me, suddenly the earth opened up. What happened next, you’ll hear in this song. Welcome, enemy of Zionism. You’re lost, this hell starts here.

HERZL* Daring to say that Israel is a murderous country. Dirty laundry gets washed here, not with Palestinians.

JEW 1 Forgive me, I won’t do it again, But it’s so unfair over there in Israel. Enemy of Zionism. Enemy of Zionism.

HERZL You celebrate Passover last year and now you make theatre with Palestinians? Damn Sissy!

JEW 1 Herzl, forgive me! I never meant to betray you, but no one else should die. Enemy of Zionism. Enemy of Zionism.174

Here again we can trace early signs of subjective movement already happening in one of the cast members.

* Theodor Herzl (1860-1904) was a Hungarian journalist born under the Austrian empire. He is considered the father of political Zionism, which advocates for the creation of a Jewish homeland. He authored the pamphlet The Jewish State (1896) in which he asserted that the Jewish question “was a political world question to be discussed and settled by the civilized nations of the world in council.” 67

Continual crisis from contradiction

Although the crisis provoked by the Salt of this Sea movie club session constituted a huge, productive step forward in the creative process, both directors emphasize that the difficult nature of the work constantly provoked new crises in the participants. Díaz asserts that the project “caused us crises all the time, every one of us.”175 Giadach adds that "New crises that had to do with our defenses always arose, but once we began to understand that the work went beyond community defenses, I believe it was a turning point.”176 These crises and conflicts, brought about by contradictions, clearly reflect Giadach’s beliefs about political theatre and also constitute what Giadach calls "the production’s strength.”

The Text

Knowing what to leave behind

Before arriving at the conclusion that the performance would trace the group’s own creative process and conflicts, Giadach had been drafting a dramatic text in an attempt to

"talk about that which couldn’t be talked about.”177 Generally speaking, the text addressed the theme of colonization in a dystopian future.178 The group attempted on various occasions to explore Giadach’s draft, but resistance to the text arose, according to Díaz, because they didn’t all “share the same positions; there were dissimilar and clashing stances and identities, and that was what had to be explored.”179 As Giadach puts it,

I eventually had to cast [the text] aside, which is why I say I had to listen . . . and know how to get rid of whatever wouldn’t do. I spent a lot of time writing a text, but I decided no, what we had to show was our process just as we had lived it, well not exactly as we had lived it, but theatricalizing it. But ultimately, showing our process was the most powerful option.180

Once the cast decided to leave the original text behind, they decided to create a collage text, with their own difficult creative process as the larger frame.181 To develop this larger frame

based on their rehearsal process, they drafted a reflective outline of the various phases of their creative process. From there, they began remembering and staging their own prior encounters.182 Giadach, with Manzi's assistance, then developed the definitive performance text by coupling newly devised material with these re-stagings.183

The cast decided to conserve part of Giadach’s original text as an opening to their performance, however. This piece, referred to as the astronaut’s text, was spontaneously written by Giadach after having spent a lot of time reading the work of German political philosopher Hannah Arendt (1906-1975).184 The text gives voice to an astronaut looking at the earth:

It’s so small from up here. I don’t remember what sunsets are like in that place . . . From up here it’s like nothing else.

One day my mother wrote down the story about my birth that Beco, my father, never tired of telling: ‘When you were born, there was an Arab baby being born right next to your mother, at the same time, right next to her.’ Every time I reread that part of the story, I hear his voice, I close my eyes, and I see him.

Look, you can see all of the origin myths. The beginning of Everything. The universe is like a pitcher, full of infinite light, that explodes and expands and expands. The responsibility of putting all those pieces back together with every action. Tikkun Olam . . . Hanukkah: the festival of lights.

This same text also gives voice to Adam:

I am the first man, the one who will be called Adam. I am bearing witness to the first sunset. But I still don’t know what this is. It’s too . . . overwhelming.

Father, the light is going out. Tell me why it hid in that beyond. Tell me, where is that beyond that swallowed the light source. Father, the darkness grows, it’s taking away the world I knew. The darkness is touching me. Father, why didn’t you tell me anything about this? Please tell me that the light will come back. Father, please talk to me, I feel . . . ALONE. In my whole body, there is something I never knew. I think it is, fear.185

Beginning the performance with this mystical text allowed the group to coax the audience members into the challenging piece, in addition to allowing them to pursue designer Ana

Campusano’s idea of utilizing an astronaut puppet.186 This idea resonated with the directors as the task of manipulating the puppet would be shared among several actors, thus requiring collective work.

Giadach’s willingness to leave behind her own text is a clear example of her belief in horizontality. The actors’ own resistance to the text is further evidence of their desire for horizontality: one text written by a single author on such a conflictive topic could not possibly reflect the diversity of the individuals in the room.

Thematic through lines

When writing and directing, Giadach utilizes a technique that she refers to as drawing the thematic through lines (which she alternately refers to as “ejes transversales” or “líneas transversales”). Since these thematic through lines should traverse the entire production, she charts these out on paper, and this process allows her to see the big picture of the work’s themes. Beyond helping her navigate the playwriting, these charts help her when directing because these thematic through lines must be present in all aspects of the production: in all of its languages, its aesthetic, its design, and in the understanding of all of those on stage. This doesn’t mean that it all has to say the same thing, however: there can be contradictions, but everything points in the same direction.187

Giadach insists that what she initially charts out on paper almost always changes throughout the rehearsal process:

Now what I write on paper ends up changing during staging, and that’s interesting, too, because what exists on paper is an ideal . . . There is a coherence that suits me, that makes sense to me, that stimulates me, too, and it has a lot to do with this, too,

ideas stimulate my creativity. And it’s also a challenge for me because a lot of times it’s hard for me to keep it grounded, and that’s the great journey I must always take . . . It’s always an interesting challenge for me.188

This exercise is an initial compass that not only helps Giadach translate her philosophical ideas into approachable stage realities, but it also clearly defines and communicates a creative intent, to which the rest of the collaborators can respond. Rather than map a rigid course, then, this chart of thematic through lines promotes horizontality by externalizing ideas that, in other types of director-cast relationships, may remain completely or partially inside the director’s own head. The chart further promotes horizontality by granting the group a common vocabulary that facilitates creative discussions, especially when group members decide to abandon one or other of the thematic through lines in favor of a new direction.

These thematic through lines are part of a larger picture that includes the work's thesis idea or thesis question. All of the thematic through lines point toward this thesis question, which is horizontally chosen, and this thesis question guides all of the group’s efforts. After considering different possibilities for El Círculo, the group chose the following thesis question: "to what extent do we generate Otherness out of fear of rejection by our communities?”189 Not only can we observe how the idea of the Other was built into the thesis question of El Círculo, but we can also identify another of the participants' thematic through lines: fear of rejection by their own communities. We saw earlier how this thematic through line was used to generate the nightmare exercise, which resulted in the musical number, “The

Enemy of Zionism.” This thematic through line was also used to generate other material that became a part of the final production, as when the cast reenacts projected family photos while muttering under their breath:

MOI: Shit. My mom’s here. SAMI: Where! MOI: That woman with the lioness hairstyle. I’m going to go blank! SAMI: That’s not her. MOI: Yes it is. NINO: I thought she wasn’t coming today? MOI: She came anyway. I knew it. NINO: Relax. Lean on the group. MOI: I’m going to cut lines, and that’s that. SAFFIE: You can’t do that.190

While the above example and the musical number are funnier moments, the last moments of the performance evoke the thematic through line of fear with much more gravity.

As previously mentioned, cast member Samantha Manzur’s individually-authored text, in which she imagines returning to Palestine and confronting the soldiers at the border, was incorporated into the final performance. This intense speech ends with her declaring that “your houses will forever smell of the dead.”191 As she delivers this speech in performance, with a configuration of other actors around her, one of the Jewish actors suddenly leaves. As Giadach explains, here we see a tangible consequence of fear of rejection by one’s community: he cannot bring himself to participate in this much more radical speech.192 This final crisis experienced by this Jewish actor propels the conclusion of the performance. As another actor who remains on stage explains, the actor’s exit wasn’t part of the plan. The scene was supposed to continue like this:

TOÑO: During this part, Jew 1 doesn’t leave, he’s not annoyed, he’s not afraid, he doesn’t feel he’s saying things he wouldn’t actually say, in fact, he says that he now sees things that he didn’t see before. If he were here, he would help Palestinian 1 read a letter that he wrote to his grandfather, in which he tells him poignant things in Arabic.193

The cast’s decision to explore the thematic through line of fear of rejection by their communities is hugely significant: it means that group members, both Jewish and Palestinian,

were able to identify an essential similarity with the Other, in spite of all of their contradictions.

According to Giadach, El Círculo contains many thematic through lines, but there are two others that we should mention. Giadach proposed that the group explore the intersection of two thematic through lines: that of the world view of the Jewish faith and that of the

Palestinian context. According to Giadach, the selection of these throughlines had to do with creating symmetrical working methods (i.e. working with an idea of importance to each group) in addition to attempting to create a collision between these two ideas. The encounter of these two ideas, and their contradiction, would generate the production’s ethical stance with regard to Palestine and Israel, that would, somehow, overcome the creatives’ fears of rejection by their communities.194

Giadach explained that she reached this idea after much thought over time, and particularly, after reading Hannah Arendt:

I realized that being Jewish doesn’t mean only one thing, and that the Zionism of the previous century took Judaism and made it univocal, it made it only one thing. And it took it for the formation of Israel. And I started to postulate that being Jewish is really very different from being a Zionist. That . . . the Jewish cosmic worldview goes in an absolutely different direction.195

After the group accepted Giadach’s proposal, she worked this idea into the text through conversations with Díaz and other members of the Jewish faith. As Giadach asks,

How do we see what’s happening in Palestine from . . . the real Jewish perspective of, for example, Tikkun Olam,* the repairing of the world, the idea of the reparation of the world? Where does that fit into present-day Israel?196

* Gerald J. Blidstein, scholar of Jewish law, defines Tikkun Olam as “Jewish responsibility for the welfare of society.” See Tikkun Olam: Social Responsibility in Jewish Thought and Law, Roman & Littlefield Publishers, 1997. 73

As previously seen, the astronaut references the idea of Tikkun Olam* and utilizes a simile to compare it with the repair of a broken pitcher. This same idea reappears in the performance during the biographical presentation of one of the Jewish actors of Moldovan descent:

I imagine Moldova as a country that rescues all of the Jewish myths, especially Tikkun Olam, which is the one about repairing the world, as if it were a broken vessel that we have a mission to repair with every action, no matter how small.197

The selection of these two thematic through lines is hugely significant. Importantly, it reflects horizontality by refraining from forcing cast members to embrace a homogenous stance toward Israel. Further, this symmetrical selection of thematic through lines also allows each group to communicate something of enormous personal significance to them. The group selected each thematic through line, pursued each completely, and allowed these thematic through lines to exist side by side, in contradiction.

Embodying the Other

Another rehearsal technique that was explored was “embodying the other.”198 Shortly after sharing their personal biographies with the group, they decided to engage in what they termed “ancestor body work.”199Cast members brought in photographs, which the group projected during rehearsal, and objects related to their ancestors. They then “embodied” their ancestors by walking as they remember their ancestors did, etc.200 They practiced entering and leaving their ancestors’ bodies by switching back and forth between playing their ancestors in the first person and talking about their ancestors in the third person. This ancestor body work revealed itself as necessary because the group’s biographical sharing sessions revealed their ancestors’ bodies as the embodied origin of “the community

* See footnote p. 73. 74

narrative.”201 The creatives integrated this ancestor work into the final production, as in the following moment:

SAMI: I believe that I am Palestinian in my body, in my arms, in my hands, in my face. My grandfather was like this, and his sister, my great aunt, my aunt Tato was a very tall, very beautiful woman, who always wore a big, black jacket, and she was like this. She would look around like this. I don’t know why recreating this body gives me sorrow.202

Embodying their own ancestors constituted a first step that eventually allowed them to explore embodying the Other.203

Near the end of the production, a Palestinian actress embodies a Jewish partisan* and a Jewish actor embodies a Palestinian fedayee†:

PARTISAN: Many years ago, in the time of the first temples, we, the Hebrews, were invaded by the Hellenics. They put their gods in the temple where we were to speak of one God only. We, the Hebrews, rose up and expelled those who threatened our customs. This festival is called Hanukkah, the festival of lights, when man looked up and realized that he didn’t have to fear darkness, that he had to celebrate light. So, he took the fruit of the olive tree, extracted its essence, and lit olive oil lamps as an offering.

FEDAYEE: That’s a beautiful celebration. For us olives are the source of life and freedom. That’s why they uproot [ours].‡ You are a great warrior.

PARTISAN: No, not really. I didn’t want to be a partisan, I wanted to spend all my time next to my mother. I wanted to die with her if they were going to kill her. When they entered the ghetto, they killed her right next to me, but not me. From that day on I didn’t care about dying, I prefer to die for being a fighter than to be killed for being a Jew.

FEDAYEE: My mother’s heart died right along with mine when they demolished the house. My little brother, along with my dad. You are a great woman. May God bathe your family in your dignity.204

* Jewish partisans were guerilla fighters who participated in the Jewish resistance of Nazi Germany throughout occupied Europe during World War II. † Palestinian fedayeen are members of a guerilla group that engages in resistance of Israel. ‡ The fedayee is referring to the Israeli practice of uprooting Palestinian olive trees and plantations. 75

Giadach explains that it became very important to have embodying the Other be written into the final text.205

Another opportunity to embody the Other involved the audience. As mentioned in the performance section of this case study, early in the performance, a narrator asks audience members if they can tell which actors are Jewish and which actors are Palestinian. A few moments later, the audience witnesses the actors meeting for the first time, and as they introduce themselves as Palestinian 1, 2, and 3 and Jew 1, 2, and 3, many audience members surely mentally verify their guesses and congratulate themselves. During these introductions, the cast explicitly acknowledges how easy it is “to tell” who is who:

PALESTINIAN 3: We’re missing . . . Palestinian 2 . . . JEW 3: You’re the Palestinians, I mean, because of your facial features . . . PALESTINIAN 3: Because of our facial features . . . PALESTINIAN 1: . . . Because of our facial features . . . 206

A few scenes later, as the cast begins to share their personal biographies, the narrator repeats the exact same question, and immediately afterward, the audience witnesses Jew 3 and

Palestinian 3 trade places and introduce their real ancestors:

SAFFIE: Ana, lower the lights, please. My name is Domingo Saffie Duery. My parents fled Palestine because of the Ottoman Turks who occupied it at the beginning of the last century. I was born in Chile, in April of 1911.

TOÑO: Around that same time my Jewish great-grandparents fled Moldova, a country close to Russia, on the coast of the Black Sea. It was surely because the Jews were being persecuted.207

Giadach explains that this strategy involves two ideas: first, to ask the audience, and second, to trick the audience by having the actors embody the Other.208 They ask the audience in order to “shake the idea of race, as well, of ethnicity, that we Palestinians look like this,

Jewish people look like that.”209 Tricking the audience, however, adds another layer of

complexity that involves empathizing with the Other "and taking the wrong body’s side."210

In the strategy of embodying the Other, we see Giadach completely upending the dichotomy of Self/Other.

Tracing Subjective Movements

An important question to ask is, did all of this contradiction and conflict result in subjective movements, and if so, what were those movements like? All participants seem to be clear that subjective movements did occur and that some movements were bigger than others. Cast member Constantino Marzuqa’s father was born in Bethlehem and his mother’s family is from the same area. As a result, he explained that he is “directly affected by what happened, happens, and will happen” in Palestine.211 Marzuqa considered leaving the project early on because of a fear that the work could end up normalizing the oppression of

Palestinians. Even though he felt this fear “up until the last minute” and he went to each rehearsal “with horrible pain in [his] body,” he believes that continuing in the project helped him change some of his perceptions:

I was forcing myself to enter into a place of discomfort, and actually, the [Jewish] cast members were also putting themselves in this same place . . . And we had a lot of arguments about this with [them]. We would say, ‘No, you all aren’t going to have problems with your community,’ and they would say, ‘no, it’s not like that. It’s complicated for us, too.’212

As a result of his experience, Marzuqa learned that the Jewish cast members felt a similar sense of risk and vulnerability, and as he sees it, this setting aside of his “egocentrism” was his greatest lesson.213

A May 2019 interview with El Desconcierto provides insight into the shifting subjectivities of two other cast members, Shlomit Baytelman and Samantha Manzur.

Baytelamn mentions "valuing the possibility of change, even if it’s minimal.”214 She claims

that, "We began to change. We were willing to listen.”215 Manzur shares that the performance reveals "how our ideologies began progressing, evolving, and embracing other perspectives.”216 While we see clear references to subjective shifts in this interview, both

Baytelman and Manzur seem to acknowledge that subjective movements aren’t necessarily holistic transformations. For her part, when Manzur is asked if her ideology changed, she replies,

Personally, I don’t feel that my ideology or thoughts changed very much, but I did dedicate myself to a process in which I listened to other stories, other perspectives, and this made me engage in new dialogues, new thought processes, and enlightenments with regard to how we can handle that which, for me, is not a conflict. It is an occupation, and we are human beings, beyond being Jewish, Palestinian, or Chilean, and we need to see it as such and take a stand.217

These shifting subjectivities not only occurred but were also explicitly acknowledged at times during the performance, as in “The Enemy of Zionism,” when the singer declares that “no one else should die” and “it’s so unfair over there in Israel.”218 Another deeply moving example occurs near the end of the performance, when Palestinian 1 relates in Arabic a letter he wrote to his grandfather, while another cast member simultaneously interprets his letter to the audience:

In this letter, Palestinian 1 tells his grandfather that he now understands what motivated Jews, but that he still hurts for Palestine, and it still hurts him every time he hears the word Israel.219

Further, the diversity of subjective movements became quite clear in the final moments of the staging.

We have already mentioned how a Jewish actor abandons the stage during Manzur’s final monologue, in which she declares that the houses of Israeli settlers “will forever smell of the dead.”220 What has not been mentioned, however, is that one of the Palestinian actors,

opposed to including this text in the final performance, also abandons the stage during this monologue. On stage remain all the actors who, at that time, were comfortable participating in the scene: Manzur, another Palestinian actor, and two Jewish actors. One of the Jewish actors is Díaz, Giadach’s co-director, and at a certain point during Manzur’s powerful monologue, Díaz and Manzur are holding hands. As Díaz explains, and as the constellation of remaining actors suggests, by opening night, the diversity of viewpoints had become much more nuanced.221

Moreover, the subjective movements initiated during the rehearsal process have continued to evolve beyond the first performance. Moisés Norambuena (who plays Jew 1, the actor who leaves during Manzur’s more radical “your houses will forever smell of the dead” speech), shared that, at the time of opening night, Manzur’s text still seemed “extremely aggressive”222 to him. He explained that he was experiencing a panicked final crisis due to

fear of opening and not knowing what was going to happen, if I was really going to have to confront my family who defends Israel above all else, my community who defends Israel above all else.223

However, Norambuena discovered that, as they continued to perform El Círculo, and after having time and space to “breathe,” that Manzur’s monologue began to sound different:

I realized that the text . . . began to mean something else to me, and so I realized that there had been a change in me that I hadn’t wanted to see . . . Because if I hear this text and it starts to sound different, it’s because now there’s nothing to defend, now there’s nothing to protect. I understood it. I am not defending the Palestinians or the Jews; ultimately, we are defending humanity.224

Norambuena stresses that the performance only reveals everyone’s process up to opening night, and now, it would be much easier for him to remain in the final scene.

Norambuena’s point of view with regard to Palestine definitively changed. As he puts it, he understands that Israel is oppressing the Palestinians, and that “this is no longer even

questionable anymore.”225 Hand in hand with this shifting view came a necessary deconstruction of self:

I had to deconstruct my identity. I had to distance myself from my Jewishness, distance myself from Israel . . . I also distanced myself from my sense of being Chilean, at the same time, so I began to deconstruct all of the corners of myself . . . and it’s very interesting, because when you deconstruct yourself, you can really turn toward humanity, which is our true essence. When you break with your heritage that supposedly belongs to you, you can really see the Other and understand the humanity that’s there.226

Not only did Norambuena change his understanding of the Other, but as a direct result, he changed his understanding of himself. As he puts it, “When one begins to see the Other, one begins to see oneself.”227 For Norambuena, participating in El Círculo was ultimately a gift that “allowed [him] to engage in a political act with [him]self.”228

Norambuena’s evolution of his subjective movements doesn’t need to change the staging of the final moments of El Círculo, however. For his part, he is sure that some audience members would identify with his character when “he can’t face it.”229 In this transformation, Giadach sees an opportunity for continued work with contradictions:

I told him . . . ‘let’s work with this contradiction of Moisés, today . . . even if the audience doesn’t understand what’s happening to you. There will be internal movement in you, this contraction that Moisés today wants to do one thing, but the staging requires something else.’230

This reflection provides a fascinating new layer to our understanding of contradictions as

Giadach sees them; this is an example of a contradiction between one’s current self and one’s former self, rather than between one’s Self and the Other. Definitively, on and off the stage, we can observer very specific and unique subjective movements across the diverse cast.

Some cast members’ subjective movements were holistic transformations, while others were

partial, but regardless, all these changes in the Self are significant movements toward truer and more compassionate understanding of the Other.

Another interesting question is to ask whether the directors, themselves, experienced any subjective movements. We have already seen how Díaz took note of her own early subjective shifts during Passover in 2018. Díaz shares that she also identified subjective shifts within herself when she drafted her own manifesto after the group’s big crisis:

It was the moment in which I began to realize . . . that if I don’t do anything, or I stay silent, I am an accomplice all the same. And for me, this was a very important moment of rupture. Because this question arises: what actions of mine allow me to stop being an accomplice? Meaning, where is my political action?231

Díaz stresses that, because of El Círculo, “she has never again been able to talk about Israel without talking about Palestine,”232 and “she can no longer not talk about occupation.”233

Since her work on El Círculo, she has founded an activist and cultural organization alongside progressive Jewish contacts initiated during the research process. The organization (currently nameless and provisionally known as “Jews without a Name”) seeks to organize around

Israeli politics in Palestine, Chilean politics, and Jewish secular culture. Díaz emphasizes that she sees theatre as political, but that political action from within the theatre is no longer sufficient for her.234

Giadach reflects on how, from a starting point of such opposing viewpoints, Díaz and she evolved into more similar viewpoints through their subjective movements. Díaz is now actively pro-Palestine, and Giadach, for her part, claims that "valuing Jewishness over

Zionism has been a very, very important step."235 Giadach is clear that, although everyone’s perspectives shifted in some way, some participants’ subjectivities shifted more than others.

And this recognition relates to another of Giadach’s subjective shifts: “understanding that it

is very difficult for a Jewish person . . . to be actively pro-Palestine. It’s complex, and I understand it, and I respect it."236 Clearly both directors experienced significant subjective shifts as a result of the deep contradictions present in and stimulated by this hugely conflictive creative process.

A final important question revolves around audience reception, particularly among those audience members from Palestinian and Jewish communities in Chile. First, Giadach is adamant that sitting Jewish and Palestinian communities down together is, in and of itself, an accomplishment.237 Moreover, both directors describe the majority of community members’ responses as positive, and they heard a sense of appreciation for having publicly expressed thoughts that are typically only shared in a more private setting. However, there were certainly some audience members who were bothered. Both Díaz and Norambuena share that it was not uncommon for the Jewish cast members to hear that they “didn’t defend Israel enough.”238 Norambuena shares that he ultimately reached a place of generosity with regard to these responses: how could he expect someone to shift a paradigm in an hour and half, if it took him a year and a half of an intense rehearsal process to do the same? As he puts it, “If my process was so complex, why can’t it be complex for others?”239

For her part, Giadach feels that the Palestinian community’s reception was generally very positive. That said, she does recall one example in which a Palestinian audience member, who attended a performance early in the run, shared that she wanted greater clarity in the production with regard to the Jewish cast members’ views of Palestine. Essentially, the audience member felt that the Jewish cast members should explicitly declare themselves pro-

Palestine during the performance. Giadach offers an insightful, twofold reflection. First,

Giadach recognizes a shared fear between this audience member and the Palestinian

creatives: that the performance might betray the Palestinian cause. Further, Giadach notes that the audience member might have felt differently if she had attended a later performance.

As Giadach puts it, the cast really began to understand what they were doing through the act of performing, and as a result, what was transmitted in later performances was noticeably different.240

As Díaz describes the performance, it’s a dialogue between ideas, but not just any dialogue: it’s “a dialogue with a critical spirit, in which, deep down, one has something to lose.”241 Overall, according to Díaz, the cast and creatives of El Círculo learned from community members’ responses that “new communities” rooted in a “critical gaze” were possible.242

Case Study Conclusion: A Summary of Creative Approaches Explored in El Círculo

The creative process behind El Círculo sheds light on Giadach’s understanding of political theatre and her unique directing practice. In line with Giadach’s belief that contradictions foster subjective movement, contradictions were built into the artistic leadership behind El Círculo, as she, a Palestinian Chilean, co-directed the work with

Alejandra Díaz Scharager, a Jewish Chilean. Significantly, the directors would go on to welcome Pablo Manzi into the creative team, and since he is neither Jewish nor Palestinian,

Manzi filled a crucial mediating role throughout the creative process.

The co-directing partnership based on contradictions was replicated throughout the cast through the invitation of six creatives, three of whom are of Palestinian descent and three of whom are of Jewish descent. The group began, rather than by diving into ideological divides, by having cast members share their personal histories. The possibility for subjective movement, a fundamental value of Giadach’s, was explicit from the beginning of the project,

as the directors shared that the project constituted an invitation to reevaluate personal beliefs.

This invitation was coupled with the assurance that personal limits would be respected and that group members were free to leave the project at any time.

The sharing of cast members’ personal and family histories both encouraged participants to encounter one another as unique individuals rather than as Other and allowed the group to detect commonalities across identity lines. Importantly, the identification of these commonalities encouraged the creation of a new collective identity that included the

Other. The creative process also stimulated contradictions through contact with the Other outside the group through the practice of field work. Additionally, both contradictions and

Giadach’s belief in horizontality were nourished through cast members’ research presentations on topics of likely controversy. Similarly, the group engaged in movie club sessions that included watching documentaries. In line with Giadach’s assertion that horizontality allows for contradictions to arise, one of these movie sessions provoked a

“crisis” that divided the group along identity lines.

Although discussion of a particular scene in one of the movies caused intense debate, rather than retreat from the conflict, the directors decided to stage the scene and in so doing invest in the contradictions that Giadach so values. The company’s reenactment made unspoken contradictions and conflict surface further, and at Manzi’s suggestion, the cast split along identity lines to hold separate debriefing sessions. These separate meetings provided a safe space, without the presence of the Other, for cast members to voice their feelings without fear and to take stock of the experience to date. These more isolated settings reduced the perceived need for defensiveness, allowing for the kindling of subjective reflection.

After coming back together as a complete cast and both gently and openly sharing their reflections, the cast proceeded to a manifesto-writing exercise in which actors were invited to draft manifestos that included their goals for the project, in addition to their stances with regard to Israel and Palestine. To ensure an understanding of a complete picture of the diverse stances among the cast, Giadach and Díaz conducted follow-up individual interviews with each cast member. Although the resolution of this major crisis propelled the work forward in a huge way, smaller crises continued to arise for cast members throughout the rest of the process.

Although initially Giadach had been drafting a text for the group to perform, she set her text aside as it became clear that the company wanted to devise around its own conflictive experience. Both Giadach’s willingness to cede and the group’s desire to devise around its diversity of identities and positions reveal the extent to which horizontality permeated the creative process. Giadach relied on her long-honed method of charting out thematic through lines, in order to create a guide for the work’s construction and in order to define and adjust collectively-chosen thesis questions and themes. With Giadach’s guidance, the group decided that its thesis question would be: to what extent do we generate Otherness out of fear of rejection by our communities? The selection of this question points to the group’s progress with regard to understanding of the Other, as cast members identified a shared concern across identity lines: community rejection. The group also chose two other thematic through lines: the world view of the Jewish faith and the Palestinian context. This balanced selection reflects the group’s horizontal working methods, and further, the decision to continue investing in contradiction by allowing these two themes to coexist on stage

In addition to incorporating devised material and reenactments of the conflictive creative process, the production included another strategy aimed at subjective movement: that of embodying the Other. Not only does the production cast a Jewish actor as a

Palestinian character and vice versa in a devised scene, but it also has two cast members, one

Jewish and one Palestinian, temporarily swap places. The production explicitly acknowledges the likely biases present in the audience: a narrator asks audience members if they can tell which actors are Palestinian and which are Jewish, and the cast later reveal that we have been tricked. This strategy leads both cast members and audience members to empathize with the Other through the Other’s body. This most visceral strategy, together with all of the creative methods utilized in El Círculo, resulted in varying and nuanced subjective movement among the cast and creatives.

Giadach’s Expansion of Theatre

Giadach has developed political theatre techniques that are both highly idiosyncratic and effective. As just one example, she has combined Said’s theory of Orientalism and Latin

American decolonial theory into a unique understanding of the Self/Other dichotomy and how it intersects with power and results in oppression of diverse Others across the globe.

This rich theoretical foundation makes her understanding of political theatre highly individual, as it is rooted both in her experience as a Palestinian Chilean and her interest in political philosophy. Giadach has translated this theoretical framework into similarly personal political theatre practices that revolve around the relationship between contradictions and subjective movement.

Giadach does not tend to use the terms “collective creation” or “devising” when describing her methods; rather, she often speaks of engaging in stage “research” that involves

“generating stage material.” That said, Giadach’s strong commitment to horizontality has meant continuous involvement in collective creation, though this characterization of her work reflects my vocabulary. Each of Giadach’s works based in collective creation, or stage research, responds to unique thematic and artistic demands. As a result, she is continually developing new devising, or generative, exercises (the nightmare exercise used in El Círculo is one example). Thus, with each of her productions, Giadach expands the body of devised theatre methods available to theatremakers.

The subjective movements experienced by the creative team of El Círculo provide ample evidence that Giadach’s political theatre technique is effective and has real-life consequences beyond the stage. I would further argue that the application of Giadach’s technique is essential, as all too often subjective movement means further entrenchment in one’s own positions. Although Giadach’s political theatre foundation and practice were born of her unique identity, her concepts and techniques are a contribution to political theatre that can be replicated across the globe.

CHAPTER 2

ALEXANDRA VON HUMMEL: DIRECTING FROM DESIRE

Figure 21. Alexandra von Hummel. Photograph by Josefina Pérez, 2019. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Von Hummel’s Career

When asked why she wanted to study theatre during her admissions audition for

Universidad de Chile’s* undergraduate acting program in 1996, Alexandra von Hummel

Zegers (b. 1974) replied, “I really like to imagine things, and I imagine them so much that

* See footnote p. 12. 88

they happen to me.”1 A fascinating and promising reply for someone who had begun her collegiate career by studying civil engineering, thinking she would become one of “those people who build bridges.”2 Von Hummel had been a shy child and never participated in theatre, but when she left behind civil engineering and had no idea what to study, she suddenly decided, “OK, I’ll take up theatre.”3 Although Universidad de Chile’s undergraduate program in theatre is nominally in acting, Von Hummel believes that it prepared her for directing, as well:

As soon as you start the program, they ask you to bring in samples, which are small staging exercises . . . which involve the creation of a world, where you have to imagine and propose a space, lighting, an atmosphere . . . Formally speaking, I only had one directing course, but the study of acting at my school always integrated staging and design.4

It was at Universidad de Chile where she would meet Alexis Moreno, her partner and collaborator of more than two decades. Shortly before graduation, they entered a student initiative, the inaugural Festival de Dramaturgia y Dirección Víctor Jara* (Víctor Jara

Festival of Playwriting and Directing) in 1999, and won. Moreno and Von Hummel had invited fellow student Ricardo Romero to design the lighting for their festival entries. This trio, initially resistant to join what seemed to be a sea of new companies cropping up only to later disband, would formally found Teatro La María (La María Theatre) the following year.

* Víctor Lidio Jara Martínez (1932-1973) was a Chilean folk singer and theatre director. He directed Egon Wolff’s Los invasores (1963), Alejandro Sieveking’s Ánimas de día claro (1964) and La remolienda (1965), Joe Orton’s Entertaining Mr. Sloane (Entreteniendo a Mr. Sloane, 1968), and Megan Terry’s Viet Rock (1969). He is particularly remembered as a leader of the Nueva Canción Chilena movement, and among his many songs are La cocinerita (1965), El cigarrito (1965), Te recuerdo Amanda, Ay mi palomita, and Plegaria a un labrador (1969). Jara was tortured and executed under the Pinochet dictatorship. 89

Her Company of Twenty Years: Teatro La María

El Mercurio announced the debuts of Von Hummel and Moreno in the Chilean theatre scene in 2000 under the title “These are the New Talents of Young Theatre.”5 Since

2000, Teatro La María (La María) has become one of Chile’s leading theatre companies. In its twenty years, the company has created a repertoire of twenty productions (see Appendix

A), and this production-per-year average constitutes “a level of productivity that is, without a doubt, respectable, in the precarious environment that is the Chilean theatre scene.”6 La

María prides itself on its

unique stage poetry . . . in which the word, acting technique, visual languages, aesthetic choices, and politics work together in deep dialogue and tension, forming a stage fabric that seeks to reckon with certain subjects, as much in regard to the content as to the theatrical. The concepts of homeland, identity, violence, and failure have arisen in one way or another in all of [its] productions. [The company] seek[s] to reflect on [its] country, concentrating, in [its] productions, fragments of the national reality.7

La María is perhaps most known for its much-lauded “unmistakable theatrical language” that has positioned it as a “model for younger generations.”8 Its acting aesthetic is “exacerbated and intense,”9 and the company’s “critical gaze”10 often employs “black humor to expose evil and hypocrisy at the highest levels.”11 Violence, gore, and the absurd are all part of the company’s language.12 Their 2005 work La tercera obra (The Third Play), co-directed by

Von Hummel and Moreno, put La María on international stages for the first time, leading to invitations to perform in France and Italy. Their work has subsequently taken them to Japan,

Argentina, Brazil, Peru, Portugal, the United States, and Germany.

As for its organizational structure, Von Hummel, Moreno, and Romero have remained the “creative nucleus,”13 and they invite guest actors, frequently on a recurring basis, to collaborate on individual productions. While all three creative leaders teach theatre

in schools and universities, they don’t work with other theatre companies. Artistically,

Romero designs the lighting (though the group also hosts guest lighting designers), both

Moreno and Von Hummel act and direct, and Moreno has written most of the company’s twenty productions. The company has also tackled adaptations of such international classics as A Doll’s House, The Seagull, Hamlet, The Pelican, and El cerco de Numancia (The Siege of Numantia14), and the Chilean classic Topografía de un desnudo by Jorge Díaz.*

Von Hummel’s Career with and beyond Teatro La María

Von Hummel has been directing from the beginning of her career. The same El

Mercurio article from 2000, mentioned above, included a sub-heading about Von Hummel:

“A Woman in the Director’s Chair,”15 and mentioned three of her directing projects at the time: La novia, for the gathering of young directors organized by the Universidad Católica† and the Universidad de Chile,‡ De Granada en sueño, for the first Short-Form Theatre

Festival, and Lástima (by Moreno), selected for the Víctor Jara Festival. She claimed, “What

I like is directing (a lot) and acting (very much). Both things. And I would like to direct many very different things. Ultimately, I like whatever reaches me, whatever moves me, whatever seduces me.”16 Further, Von Hummel studied directing with Alfredo Castro§ in 2006 and

2007, when she participated in a seminar in directing through the Research Center of Teatro

La Memoria.

* Jorge Díaz (1930-2007) was a prolific Chilean playwright, member of the Generación Literaria de 1950, and one of Chile’s most award-winning playwrights in history. Among his more than ninenty plays are El cepillo de dientes (1961), El velero en la botella (1962), and Pablo Neruda viene volando (1991). † See footnote p. 4. ‡ See footnote p. 12. § See footnote p. 12. 91

Von Hummel has numerous acting credits and has directed or co-directed seven productions for La María. Outside of her company, she has directed another eight productions including Franco as part of her Master’s program. Her unique skill-set and visual eye have also earned her four scenic design credits for La María. Von Hummel also teaches and directs at schools and universities across Santiago. Von Hummel, both as an individual artist and as a member of Teatro La María, is an undoubtedly influential creative, actress, director, and instructor in the Chilean theatre scene. Further, this chapter will show that Von Hummel, through her creative practice and unique approach to theatremaking, is a theatrical practitioner and thinker deserving of international attention.

Memorable Moments

When asked about milestones from her career, Von Hummel cites three moments: La tercera obra (2005), Angels in America (2006), and Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer (2012).

Although Von Hummel’s core beliefs about theatre will be addressed later, these anecdotes are shared here as they provide colorful glimpses into Von Hummel’s thinking and reflection on her own career.

La tercera obra: Approaching an Audience

In 2005, La María began work on La tercera obra (The Third Play), based on Bertolt

Brecht’s Fear and Misery of the Third Reich and with Von Hummel and Moreno as co- directors. The group’s initial resistance to the play’s depiction of Nazi terror, reminiscent of

Chile’s own dictatorship, was explored under the question, “Where did we get the idea that talking about this again is annoying?”17 Attempting to answer this question led the cast to create new scenes that consisted of their own responses to Fear and Misery of the Third

Reich. Eventually, the cast excitedly realized that, rather than simply perform Brecht’s play,

they wanted to share their own discussions and rehearsal process with the audience. Cast members designed a collage performance structure that would include scenes from Brecht’s original play in addition to projections of their rehearsal debates and created scenes. As excited as they had been about their innovative structure, shortly before premiere, the creatives began to worry, “will people understand what we’re doing?”18 La tercera obra became a landmark learning moment for Von Hummel because of the discussion that followed:

It was a milestone because it meant taking the plunge and realizing that, actually, the questions come first . . . but we must ask ourselves these questions long before we try to ask the audience these questions . . . without cheating, without answering them too soon . . . really though, ‘Why do I think that this is a worn-out topic? Why?’19

From this experience, Von Hummel concluded that, in order to reach an audience, creatives must direct their questions at themselves.

Figure 22. Scene from La tercera obra. Von Hummel (left) can also be seen in the projected image (left). Photograph by Ricardo Romero, 2005. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 93

Figure 23. Moment in La tercera obra. Photograph by Ricardo Romero, 2005. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Figure 24. Broken glass in La tercera obra. Photograph by Ricardo Romero, 2005. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 95

Angels in America: Approaching a Character

Von Hummel directed Angels in America as an acting exam with undergraduate students of the Theatre Department of the Universidad de Chile in 2006. She had cast a woman as Belize, who, according to the dramatis personae page of Kushner’s text, is “a registered nurse and former drag queen whose name was originally Norman Arriaga; Belize is a drag name that stuck.”20 Creating this character proved a challenging and exciting task, and the actress worked with Von Hummel to explore numerous approaches. What resulted was a revealing performance solution:

She came in during the middle of the performance, and up until then everything had been realism, as it were, and in the middle, she came in through a door and spoke directly to the audience. She said, ‘Hello, I have to play a drag queen, and I’m very nervous because I don’t know how to do it. It makes me really anxious, but not the kind of anxiety an actress feels when she thinks she won’t perform well. It’s because I really want to get the character of the drag queen . . .’ And in this same monologue she also said, ‘I’m really embarrassed to be doing this, like theatre within theatre, breaking a norm or something, as if what I’m doing were improvised, but no, I’m telling you because I need you to understand, I don’t want to break anything, all this is rehearsed . . .’ And then she would get back to the problem of the drag queen: ‘suddenly, in rehearsal, I realized that my anxiety, the anxiety that I felt for not getting the drag queen just right, could be compared to a drag queen’s anguish about wanting to project the image of woman with his body, but that he wouldn’t ever be able to perfect . . . a perfectly complete image, and I could compare that anguish to the anguish I feel as an actress, that because I’m a woman, I won’t be able to perfect the image of the drag queen. And so, I realized that this space of not attaining it, of wanting to fulfill an image and not being able to, that was what moved me, so that was the drag queen for me.’21

Throughout the performance, the actress occasionally relied on imitation of drag queens in her portrayal of Belize, but other times, she played Belize without any physical mimicry.

This experience confirmed Von Hummel’s belief that acting has nothing to do with

“mimetically portraying another so that she is recognizable” but rather “injecting a character’s problem under your own skin, living that problem, and making it your own.”22

Although Von Hummel’s experience with Angels in America wasn’t a fully-fledged production, it was a significant pedagogical process that provided her with specific insight into acting technique and character creation.

Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer: Approaching a Text

Von Hummel directed Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer (In Pursuit of Nora Helmer) for

La María in 2012, and her rehearsal process consisted of shedding preconceived notions about Ibsen’s play and exploring the group’s own questions about the text. One such initial question revolved around the loan:

I wondered about Nora’s loan and the importance it has in the play, because nowadays, taking out a loan doesn’t have any gravity. So, what parallels could we establish, in terms of significance, of weight . . . ? And here the ‘magic if’ is useful to imagine something of a similar weight. So, I decided, OK, let’s play it like she’s a drug trafficker, she traffics drugs in her own house, she traffics drugs in order to save her husband’s life. And while this idea wouldn’t be communicated to the audience on stage, it does help us to understand it . . . she’s going to traffic drugs. And what about the medical treatment that the play mentions? How much does it cost? To understand the size of the thing. Let’s imagine that it’s a cancer treatment that costs millions of pesos, and so she has to traffic drugs, and later, when Torvald reproaches her, she has all the rage she needs to say, ‘How dare you? I did all of this for you. I believed that you would sacrifice yourself for me, and now I realize that you won’t,’ . . . and with all this in mind, the door slam is inevitable.23

The group explored these questions and ideas of interest through daring improvisations, including one in which male cast members wore drag in order to locate Nora’s problems in their own bodies.24 These improvisations eventually merged with Ibsen’s text into the final performance, but importantly, Von Hummel signals that her approaches were “attempts to understand the play. [She] didn’t start out thinking that all of the male characters would end up wearing drag, but rather, [she] asked [herself], ‘what interests me here?’”25

Figure 25. Scene from Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer. Moreno is second from the left. Photograph by Rodrigo Ruiz, 2012. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 98

Figure 26. Moment from Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer. Moreno is second from the right. Photograph by Rodrigo Ruiz, 2012. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

At Present: Channeling Voracity

When reflecting on her career as a whole, Von Hummel mentioned another important milestone for her: earning a Master of Arts in Theatre Studies and Practice from the School of Theatre of the Universidad Católica* in 2018. The reason she wanted to embark on graduate studies, as she claimed in her personal statement for admission, was that she wanted to “de-specialize.”26 And this is exactly what the program allowed her do: she merged her study of theatre with diverse disciplines including visual arts, cinema, and philosophy. Her graduate program also allowed her to direct her first professional production without any of her La María ensemble members: Franco, by María José Pizarro. Franco later enjoyed

* See footnote p. 4. 99

another run in 2019 in Chile’s largest theatre festival, the International Santiago a Mil

Festival,* and won an award for its overall design from the Círculo de Críticos de Arte de

Chile (Art Critics’ Circle of Chile). This hugely significant creative process allowed Von

Hummel to be in rehearsal for a year, and as a result, after twenty years of theatremaking voracity, she now finds herself wanting “to stop for a bit, so that this voracity isn’t just charging straight ahead anymore, but rather so that it’s as if it were spiraling inward.”27 Most recently, Von Hummel directed Juan Radrigán’s Isabel desterrada en Isabel for the Festival de Teatro Juan Radrigán† in Quilicura, Santiago, Chile. Up next for the bold creative is an exciting adaptation of Ibsen’s The Wild Duck, which she will direct for La María later this year. Additionally, to celebrate its twenty-year anniversary, Teatro La María will reprise four of its most emblematic productions in 2020.

* The Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil is an annual, month-long theatre festival that offers programming throughout the Santiago metropolitan area and across fifteen Chilean cities each January. Since its first iteration in 1994, it has hosted over 1,000 Chilean-national productions and some 500 international productions for over 11 million audience members. For more information, visit santiagoamil.cl. † See footnote p. 13. 100

Figure 27. Moment from Isabel desterrada en Isabel. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2020. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Figure 28. Moment from Isabel desterrada en Isabel. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2020. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 101

Figure 29. Moment from Isabel desterrada en Isabel. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2020. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Core Beliefs about Theatre: Material Relationships and Sensations of Reality

Four Realities at Play

Von Hummel understands the reality presented on stage as existing in relationship with three other realities:

Reality motivates the emergence of a text that reworks the first reality, framing it and amplifying it. The text builds a second reality from the first. In turn, the stage inevitably twists the text, and dialogues as much with the first reality as with the reality that the text establishes. And the stage constructs a third possibility, a stage reality that will be reworked, again, by the audience member, who will organize what is before him according to his own sensibility.28

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According to Von Hummel, a “stage reality” is not reality, but rather, “a new version of what happens in reality.”29 Rather than attempt to imitate or represent reality, theatre should seek to reconstitute it.30

Theatre: The Art of Material Relationships

If theatre reconstitutes reality, then what elements constitute a stage reality? For Von

Hummel, these elements are what she calls “materials.” I believe that Von Hummel understands material to be anything perceived through the senses. Materials might include colors, sound, lighting, actors’ bodies, and movement styles. In order to create theatre, these materials need to be selected and arranged in an overall relationship with one another, or placed in a composition. Von Hummel condenses these ideas in a simplified example:

If I take a very sharp knife . . . and a one-and-a-half-year-old child, and I put both in a theatre . . . and I leave them there. It’s neither the child, nor the knife; it’s the coexistence of the two in that space that generates a sense of danger, that makes a scene happen.31

In her example, the danger, which is the scene, comes from the selection and arrangement of the materials. For Von Hummel, theatre is “the art of creating material relationships.”32

Theatre’s Aims: Sensations of Reality

If theatre is the art of creating material relationships, then what do these material relationships seek to provoke? Does this stage reality attempt to tell a story? For Von

Hummel, absolutely not. Rather than tell a story, these material relationships should endeavor to generate “sensations of reality.”33 To understand Von Hummel’s meaning, we must look to French philosopher Gilles Deleuze (1925-1995), as Von Hummel recently read his Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation while writing her thesis in 2017. In Deleuze, Von

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Hummel found comprehensive theoretical language to describe the way she has intuitively practiced theatre for more than twenty years.

In Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Deleuze analyzes the paintings of the

Irish-born British painter Francis Bacon (1909-1992), including his series of paintings of screaming Popes. This series contains reinterpretations of Portrait of Innocent X by Spanish painter Diego Velazquez (1599-1660).* When asked about his screaming Popes, Bacon is famously quoted as having said, “I wanted to paint the scream more than the horror.” As

Deleuze explains,

When he paints the screaming Pope, there is nothing that might cause horror, and the curtain in front of the Pope is not only a way of isolating him, of shielding him from view; it is rather the way in which the Pope himself sees nothing, and screams before the invisible . . . the horror is multiplied because it is inferred from the scream, and not the reverse. As soon as there is horror, a story is reintroduced, and the scream is botched.34

According to Deleuze, Bacon’s approach to painting is neither illustrative, figurative, nor abstract;35 rather, his approach is through sensation, that “action of invisible forces on the body.”36 In other words, rather than paint a horrific scene or story, Bacon painted the effects of horror on the Popes’ bodies. This important decision also affects how the viewer receives the meaning of the work: rather than passing through the viewer’s brain, the work acts

“directly upon [his or her] nervous system.”37

Von Hummel claims that the reality of the stage is the reality of sensation. With this addition, we can reach a complete definition of theatre according to Von Hummel: theatre is the art of creating material relationships that provoke sensations of reality.

* To view a representative example, visit the official website of the estate of Francis Bacon, https://www.francis-bacon.com/artworks/paintings/study-after-velazquezs-portrait-pope-innocent-x#technical- data. 104

Audience: Creators of New Realities

Although theatre should aim to generate sensations of reality in audiences, Von

Hummel is adamant that she doesn’t believe in attempting to produce a specific sensation.

This would be impossible. The sensations of reality presented on stage are received by each audience member who, according to his or her particular sensibilities, “isolates and combines certain elements, producing his or her particular ‘reading.’”38 This “reading,” or interpretation, is a fourth reality that is neither reality itself, nor the textual reality, nor the stage reality. So, when Von Hummel thinks of the audience, she thinks of herself, “as the first audience member and the only one that [she] really know[s].”39 Like Bacon, Von

Hummel makes artistic decisions based on sensation and expects that her work will reach her audience through sensation.

And while artists should use their own sensations as a gauge for artistic choices, rather than try to provoke a particular interpretation, they should simply strive to “excite the desire of interpretation.”40 Further, in the director-audience relationship, Von Hummel honors her audience, claiming that “[she] like[s] to think that [her] audience members are people that [she] admires, and so they will make connections that [she] can’t even imagine.”41

Text: A Launchpad for Individual Imagination

Since the text is neither reality itself nor the stage reality, what relationship exists between the textual reality and Von Hummel’s stage reality? Von Hummel’s theatrical work has always used text as a launchpad, but what draws her to a text is its ability to lead her “to imagine and think.”42 Some aspect of the text catches her eye and then launches her beyond the text, and what catches her eye is never the text’s story but rather “the reality it secretes

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(the sensations it secretes), its material aspect.”43 For Von Hummel, then, “being true to the text means being true to one’s own interpretation.”44

Acting: Portraying Sensations of Reality in the Body

Given that Von Hummel believes that the reality of the stage is the reality of sensation, it is no surprise that she believes that, when acting, one should “portray the sensation of reality affecting the body.”45 Just as with Bacon’s screaming Popes, what an actor is representing on stage isn’t reality but rather “how reality affects him.” Von Hummel provides an illuminating example in her thesis:

The reality of old age . . .

The question isn’t how to portray old age but rather how to make old age perceivable.

. . . The old person isn’t necessary, his needs are; the way in which the body is affected by old age.

I imagine, for example, the following: a very tall actor, wearing a tuxedo, holding himself up with a rickety walker. He advances slowly, really slowly, toward a door at the opposite end of the space. The man needs to use the bathroom. He has to cross an immense, very shiny red box of a space, with only one door that leads to the bathroom. The red lacquer frames and surrounds the body and its effort. The man advances slowly, he urgently needs to get to that door, but his body hinders him. He won’t make it. He stops, looks, tries to advance quickly, he can’t. He realizes that he won’t make it, he cries. He wets himself. Out from behind the door comes a dog who approaches him and smells him.

That’s the old age that pierces and moves me: the loss of dignity, exposure. I imagine the difficulty, the anguish provoked by the slowness of a body that doesn’t respond, hence the emphasis on rhythm, on a slowness that complicates an action as trivial as crossing a space. The scene I imagine, as an example, doesn’t intend to project the image of a real old person but rather unleash the sensation of being one.46

Von Hummel doesn’t need an elderly actor to portray the reality of old age on stage. Neither does she need mimesis, as she had confirmed in her work on Angels in America. What

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matters to her is the sensation of old age: “the difficulty of wanting to get somewhere when the body doesn’t respond.”47

Character: An Artificial Combination of Realities

If actors embody sensations on stage, then how do they approach building a character? Von Hummel does not believe in a psychological approach. In her opinion, “even if it moves the audience, it doesn’t reach the level of theatricality that the stage requires.”48

As is clear from her detailed example of portraying an elderly person on stage, for Von

Hummel, the “character is always an artificial construction that condenses pieces of reality”49 in the actor’s body. Further, Von Hummel’s company often repeats, “there are no characters, only situations,”50 and their approach to creating a character could be understood as moment- to-moment:

In one scene . . . I can be tremendously vulnerable, and in another, incredibly violent, and when I play the violence, I don’t try to make vulnerability appear, nor do I try to make violence appear in the vulnerability, but rather I respond to the situation, to different situations.51

Von Hummel is adamant that this approach grants characters complexity:

It seems to me infinitely more interesting the contradiction, the house (the role) that wobbles. The expression, ‘that character wouldn’t do that,’ . . . only takes away the role’s complexity, as if a crack in the coherency meant collapse rather than depth.52

In Von Hummel’s view, it is the actor’s job to embody sensations and respond to the uniqueness of each situation, and out of this complexity, it’s the audience member who “sews up [the] character.”53 Character interpretation, then, also belongs to the fourth reality: that of the spectator’s interpretation.

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Directing: Desire as Deciding Factor

For Von Hummel, directing is “an exercise of thought that triggers the emergence of a stage reality.”54 This process, however, is not merely intellectual; it is also highly intuitive.

Von Hummel describes her approach to directing as “starting from desire,”55 or “what I like most,”56 which, I believe, is occasionally another way of saying “working from one’s own sensations.” As mentioned earlier, Von Hummel believes that the stage should provoke sensations in audience members, and she sees herself as the audience member to which she has the most direct access. While she can’t be sure exactly which sensations will be provoked in each audience member, she sincerely uses her own sensations as a guide for making artistic choices and trusts that audience members, too, will experience some sensations as a result. When directing, Von Hummel “approach[es] the scene as a fabric made of material relationships, trying out matches and mismatches.”57 Any decisions she makes will respond to the logic of sensation, or the logic of her own desires. “First the scene, then the meaning.”58

Conclusion: Von Hummel’s Conception of Theatre

Von Hummel’s approach to theatremaking rests on the foundational belief that the stage is its own reality. This reality consists of diverse materials in numerous relationships, which the director selects and arranges according to her own sensations. The text is a starting point rather than a measure for artistic decision-making. Audience members, through their unique sensibilities and sensations, reach their own conclusions. In all aspects of theatremaking, sensation is the guide.

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Co-Directing Methods within Teatro La María: Desires and Conversation

Before delving into a case study of Von Hummel’s solo directing work, we will briefly explore the idiosyncratic co-directing methods than Von Hummel and Moreno employ within La María as these offer illuminating possibilities for creative collaboration.

Examples will be taken from their experience co-directing El hotel (The Hotel, 2016). El hotel is set in a “prison” in Antarctica, where four elderly Chileans, all convicted of crimes against humanity committed under the Pinochet dictatorship, live out the rest of their days with carefree access to Ping-Pong, an arcade game, karaoke, TV, a sauna, and endless parties. These “demented old people with sweet faces,” all of whom have Alzheimer’s and suffer from incontinence, mistreat the only other characters in the play, two “nurses-waiters- bellhops.”59 Employing grotesque humor, La María takes a biting look at Chile’s post- dictatorship history with its special prisons for individuals who committed crimes against humanity.

Figure 30. Scene from El hotel at the Schaubühne. Von Hummel is second from the left. Photograph by Gianmarco Bresadola, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

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Figure 31. Scene from El hotel. Von Hummel is third from the left. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2016. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Figure 32. One of the nurses (Moreno) is forced to dress up and pretend to be the visiting son of one of the convicts (Von Hummel) in El hotel. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2016. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

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With regards to their individual roles within the directing partnership, Von Hummel says that she sees two parts to directing: (1) directing the details of each scene and (2)

“conceiving the staging’s big picture,” or “the show’s architecture,” which includes determining the setting, “the elements at play,” a bit of scene design, how scenes relate to one another, and creation of a certain atmosphere or texture.60 Von Hummel and Moreno’s working process leads to a constant involvement on both of their parts in all aspects of directing. That said, their unique ways of thinking and approaches mean that often, Moreno is looking at the details of each scene while he constructs “the entire musical universe of the performances” and unleashes diverse atmospheres. Von Hummel, for her part, frequently directs by conceiving the show’s architecture and attempting to create tension between the text and the stage image. As Von Hummel puts it, each director contributes his or her unique desires, thoughts, and approaches, and together, they “contaminate” one another while co- directing. In other words, the idea of desire, so prevalent in her directing approach, also determines her co-directing relationship with Moreno. But Von Hummel insists: “in the end we do it together… very much together.”61

Before rehearsals begin, they “talk a lot . . . and things will come up that one or the other wants.”62 In the case of El hotel, Von Hummel wanted a sauna scene that revealed the naked bodies of the elderly criminals. Her desire led to an exciting design exploration of how exactly to create elderly bodies in young actors. As for Moreno, he wanted

a scene told by puppets, children’s puppets, and it was an excellent scene because the scene actually narrated a torture session, but it was told by Snow White and the seven dwarves.63

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While both Von Hummel and Moreno had their own unique desires, these individual ideas were born of mutual understanding about the performance: they had a mutual desire to explore “the impudence, the insolence, of these people” and that they wanted the setting to be a “semi-hotel.”64 El hotel, as with most of La María’s performances, was written by Moreno, and Von Hummel explains that they talk about the production all throughout Moreno’s writing process and even after, when he revises the text based on their rehearsals.65

Figure 33. Spa scene from El hotel. Von Hummel is second from the right. Photograph by Ricardo Romero, 2016. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

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Figure 34. Puppet scene from El hotel. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2016. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

During rehearsals, as already mentioned, Moreno enjoys looking at the details of each scene. For example, he might ask the cast to sit on a sofa and drag it forward “in a very particular way, [as] he is constantly playing with the absurdity of a situation, creating tension by combining, for example, the violence of a scene with a ridiculous movement style.”66

Since both Von Hummel and Moreno act in each performance, when one is in a scene, the other will direct from the outside, and vice versa. They continuously enter the scene as actors and exit the scene to look on as directors, and for scenes when both need to act, other cast members will look on from the outside.67 As Von Hummel puts it, they’re always “acting and at the same time talking to each other.”68 Conversations continue after rehearsal, and they

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work through arguments until they reach an agreement. These “agreements” are not compromises, however:

They are agreements that happen because one of us is able to seduce the other, it’s not about ceding, in the sense that, ‘you decided that, so now I decide this.’ It’s not about ceding, it’s about finding something that we both agree on.69

This foundation of extensive conversation and thinking together, that undergirds Von

Hummel and Moreno’s “joint directing”70 relates to a larger spirit of conversation that they maintain with the rest of the cast and crew on each production. At first rehearsal, they read the text and take stock of all the ideas in the room, even those pertaining to design elements.

According to Von Hummel, “everyone talks, everyone comments . . . It’s not that we don’t work with designers, but it’s a working process where boundaries blur.”71 These “blurred boundaries” within the ensemble and within Von Hummel and Moreno’s unique co-directing relationship are anchored by the presence of an overarching, shared desire, along with space for individual desires to flourish.

Directing Case Study: Franco

The Performance

Franco follows a low-level police officer as he gradually recounts his first love, his mother’s rejection, the repression of his own sexuality, the murder of his former love, and ultimately, his own suicide. A slow, thundering industrial churn of sound in a blackout marks the beginning of the performance, and the setting is slowly revealed: a sterile and claustrophobic box made of shiny yellow plastic. There’s no explicit sense of place, and the long monologue only reveals its location near the end: Franco is in jail.

The images are striking and clearly carefully selected. A tall, feminine-presenting person in a bubblegum-pink cleaning uniform and high heels with her back to the audience.

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Her functional cleaning cart and multi-colored supplies. Franco, the titular character, never directly interacts with any other bodies on stage. Franco wears an olive-green uniform and an eerie mask that swallows his entire head. Franco struggles to remove his mask. During one of the light shifts (all of which are slow fades), a second figure is revealed: a short, feminine- presenting person in the same bubblegum-pink uniform, minus the heels. Near the end of the performance, Franco is doubled: a masculine-presenting person is revealed. It’s an off-duty

Franco. He wears jeans, tennis shoes, and a jean jacket. Suddenly, all four bodies are present together, and they all wear the same strange masks.

And then there’s Franco’s ever-changing voice. At times the microphone emits a deep and raspy voice. At other times, it sounds almost childlike. When Franco’s voice suddenly becomes high pitched, his laughter becomes diabolical and his yelling of “pa, pa, pa,” echoes and haunts the ear. Throughout his episodic monologue, Franco gives voice to three other characters: his first love, a fellow police officer, and a prostitute. In a final moment, Franco leaves the microphone on the floor, and his voice seems to emanate from the mic, divorced from his body.

Franco’s movement is always heightened: he gestures with his whole body, and his language and intonation are highly conversational, full of local slang and cadence. The combination of Franco’s movement and the production’s lighting almost make a character out of his uniform, which makes sense: Franco is proud of his uniform. Franco’s uniform becomes particularly prominent during a moment in which he elaborates on all the assignments that are given him that are beneath him. Franco has been left alone in the space, and he moves the cleaning cart stage center. A spot illuminates him, revealing a mirror-like

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reflection of both Franco and the cart in the ceiling. The shadows created by the intense spotlight outline every crease and bulge in his uniform.

Each episode has a visual and vocal uniqueness that makes it stand apart from the rest, and though much of the performance provokes unpleasant sensations, there is a distinct tender moment. The stage fills with green lighting, and we clearly hear Franco open a can and lick his finger. Franco sits, leaning against one of the box’s walls. A soft, warm light peeks through the sliver of space between two of the panels, so that half of his face basks in warm light, but the other half remains green. Shy and almost childish, Franco carefully reveals, as if talking to a therapist, his experience of first love at the all boys’ boarding school. “For the first time, someone kissed [him].”72 He had no knowledge at the time that society saw this as a “homosexual” kiss.73

His mother’s condemnation of his romance leads Franco to repress his sexuality, abandon his childhood love, and seek refuge in the police uniform. Years later, he is assigned a shift on a street known for prostitution. He reencounters his former sweetheart, now a trans prostitute, only to violently murder her. His colleague, shocked, arrests him “like a common criminal.” But Franco wasn’t common. Franco was his hero.74

In the final moment, with the audience fully aware that Franco is in a jail cell, he removes his belt, and the lights fade. We hear his somewhat choking voice in complete darkness. The lights come up slightly on the back panel, revealing Franco’s legs dangling from the ceiling.

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Figure 35. Set of Franco. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Figure 36. Franco with other bodies. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 117

Figure 37. Franco’s mask. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

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Figure 38. Franco in spotlight. Photograph by Rodrigo Ruiz, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 119

Figure 39. Franco remembers his childhood sweetheart. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel.

Figure 40. Scene from Franco. Photograph by Marcos Ríos, 2018. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 120

Approaching Franco

Pre-Rehearsal Methods

Before rehearsals begin, Von Hummel will have identified a text that excites her.

Given the role that the text plays in her creative practice, it is no surprise that Von Hummel requested permission to use the text from playwright María José Pizarro with the condition that she “loan it to [Von Hummel] with complete confidence in her, . . . so that she could do whatever she wanted with the text.”75 Von Hummel’s pre-rehearsal research consists of imagining and thinking, and Von Hummel is careful to note that this research is unstructured.

Her research is a “space made purely of imagination.”76

In these early and imaginative research sessions, Von Hummel recognizes that her director’s desire leads her to explore both thematic and staging questions, yet these questions aren’t explicit but rather latent. With Franco, Von Hummel explored the following thematic questions:

The idea of being locked up. I thought, this is a cop, a police officer, who is locked up within his uniform, too. I was interested in the idea of the uniform, why someone would want to be a police officer, I find it very strange. I really wonder, how? Devoting yourself to repressing others, I don’t understand it . . . What’s more, this play is about a gay man, and in Chile, being gay and a police officer is something that you hide. It becomes a theme, and so I think he hides behind his uniform. So, he’s locked up in a police station, which is where he works, and at the same time, to me, he is locked up within his uniform.77

We clearly see how Von Hummel’s interests in the text, even when thematic, go straight to sensations, and the material realities that provoke them. A jail cell. A uniform. The sensation of being trapped.

Von Hummel’s primary staging question revolved around Franco’s voice:

I imagined a thousand voices inside his body: what he was, his social origins . . . because there is something there, too, about wanting to be someone else through the

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uniform, the uniform allowed him to be someone else, to have a higher social status, to gain entry to another social status. Then there is his sexuality . . . so I thought, in terms of staging, how can I make there be a thousand voices in this body? How can I make him a ventriloquist? So that suddenly he talks like a woman, and then suddenly like a child, but with the same body . . . ? That sense of strangeness that ventriloquists provoke?78

Again, we clearly see Von Hummel’s desire honing in on sensations. For Von Hummel, the voice is a material because we hear it. If we could hear “a thousand voices” in one body, what strange sensations might our senses register?

Von Hummel also had another staging question, that of the jail cell, which is the play’s setting:

how to reconstitute the jail cell . . . where he was imprisoned. And all of a sudden, my answer, I don’t know why . . . was to make some sort of yellow container, of shiny lacquer. Where there is a body that is surrounded by a shiny invasive color, on all sides, even the ceiling . . . So it’s the color that becomes stifling, an oppressive atmosphere because he is surrounded by something . . . 79

And here again, Von Hummel’s instincts led her straight to sensations: “invasive,”

“suffocating,” “oppressive,” “surrounded.” And fascinatingly, the material element with which she chose to represent this oppressiveness was a color: yellow. Not only does this desire for yellow harken back to Von Hummel’s values of materials, sensations, and nonintellectual decision-making, but it also clearly reveals her belief that a stage reality is not reality itself:

Because in the theatre, if I reconstruct . . . a jail or a jail cell on stage, it will never be as powerful as in reality. It’s impossible. It is an image that stands in for the one that isn’t there but that we recognize . . . so, me, as an audience member, I would say, ‘OK, that’s a jail cell, like the ones that I know exist.’ But if I build a yellow-lacquer container, it’s not standing in for something that’s not there, it is what it is . . . and that generates a sensation, an atmosphere, at least for me . . . it’s like an oppressive hallway . . . that gives me the sensation of smothering and confinement . . . It’s a space that can refer to many things, not just a jail cell.80

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Although Von Hummel hasn’t expressed it in this way, I see her desire for nonrepresentational materials as an attempt to chase down something’s essence. The essence of a jail cell, for example, is not the bars or the appearance of the cell; the essence of the jail cell is the limitation of someone’s movement to a particular location, or confinement. And confinement happens to be a sensation. One could say that Von Hummel actively seeks the sensational essences of reality for the stage.

In addition to delving into a space of thought and imagination guided by her own intuitive desires, Von Hummel also often gathers images or videos, both for herself and to share during the rehearsal process. In the case of Franco, she watched movies that featured ventriloquists and wondered about how this effect, so simple to achieve in cinema, could be rendered on stage. Image-based research in productions is often utilized to understand exactly what something looks like in real life, but this is not the case for Von Hummel. Von

Hummel seeks images that activate her imagination and, in the case of the ventriloquists, help her to imagine how she might adapt an idea or a technique for the stage.

A final method employed during the pre-rehearsal phase is actor selection, and Von

Hummel’s approach to this task again reveals her concern for materials and sensations in action:

I choose actors that I like because of their unique features, not so that they can portray something that I already have in my head. In other words, it’s not a selection based on casting, in which you want the actor to fit with a previously determined idea about the character. I call them because they interest me . . . I like them as actors in general, and because I am going to build with them.81

Actors, then, are also materials with which Von Hummel “builds” a stage reality. She chooses actors based on the material elements that they bring to the table, including their energy and their “acting texture.”82 Far from reducing an actor’s role in a production, this

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approach values the individuality of each actor. As Von Hummel says, rather than force actors to fit into something that she imagines, she will ask them to use themselves, in all their material uniqueness.

Peeking inside these imaginative, pre-rehearsal thought processes and methods, from initial contact with the text, through thematic and staging questions, all the way to actor selection, illuminates Von Hummel’s distinctively characteristic interests in sensations, materials, and unique staged realities.

Rehearsal Methods

First rehearsal

First rehearsals for Von Hummel generally consist of sharing all of the desires that she wants to explore, any images that she has gathered, either in her mind or on her computer, and an honest declaration that she doesn’t know how it will all come together:

I say, ‘look, I want to do this mixed with this, with this, with this, with that . . . and I don’t really know how we’re going to put it together.’ In general, that’s how I work, declaring that I don’t know. That it’s about my desires and that we’re to feel our way through and that, actually, I’m going to find out in the staging . . . I don’t have the idea beforehand, and I’m not going to tell them where I want them to stand because basically I don’t know.83

From here, Von Hummel and the cast read the text and engage in significant table work during and beyond first rehearsal, which might seem surprising given Von Hummel’s predilection for intuition and sensation. However, her approach to tablework is through an important material element: the voice. As a matter of fact, it is precisely the voice that renders the text a material reality. Further, Von Hummel uses the voice in table work in order to access the body, another material element: “I don’t start out asking them to get on their

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feet, I always start from the text. I feel that when the scene actually happens, the body moves by itself.”84

And since she has chosen an actor who fascinates her, during the reads she places her director’s attention on the material realities that the actor offers:

I watch him, fixed on him, and I say, ‘I like that, turn that up,’ from how he reads, how he moves, ‘keep that.’ But it’s in response to what he does . . . That’s why I say that I call on an actor that I like. I like something about him, so I exacerbate what I like, I use that. Later on, I’ll ask for other things, but in general, I start from this place, from this actor who fascinates me. Deep down, I allow myself to become fascinated with this body, this voice, this worldview. That’s the reason behind the actor selection, not casting or anything like that.85

For Von Hummel, first rehearsal is a time for sharing her desires, reading the text, and talking about the text. Before rehearsals begin, she has already spent a lot of time in solo imagination, so first rehearsal is a time for mutual imagination, before launching into an exploration of the text through vocal materials.86

“One thousand voices”: a technical exploration of speech as stage material

As mentioned previously, Von Hummel was exploring some overarching staging questions, including: how could she inject a thousand voices into one body? Her exploration of this larger question throughout the rehearsal process led her to a very specific exploration of the relationship between language and speech. In her thesis, Von Hummel cites Swiss linguist Ferdinand de Saussure (1857-1913) and concludes that speech is the “concrete use of language by a given individual,” or “language in action.”87 Speech would include anything one could hear once a person converts words into sound: voice, rhythm, tone, register, etc.

With this understanding of speech, Von Hummel wondered, how do speech patterns affect our perception of their content?88 And how do speech patterns affect our perception of images, or the bodies that emit them?89 Additionally, Von Hummel explored the relationship

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between speech and character, challenging the idea that one character has one way of speaking and complicating the emergence of other characters through speech.

As Von Hummel sees it, when words become sound, they become speech. And once words become speech, they can be used as materials in a stage reality. For Von Hummel, speech is often a way to study a text: “I really think about speech more than the voice; speech is how I use rhythm, tone, and different processes to grasp a text.”90 In the case of Franco,

Von Hummel was drawn to an exploration of speech because of material aspects, already present in the text, that fascinated her: its rhythm and its use of slang.91

The rhythm of the text is affected by the protagonist’s situation: he has just murdered someone, he is in jail, and he is in shock. For Von Hummel,

Rhythm is one of the most remarkable material aspects of the text. Its rhythm isn’t a result of the dramatic action, but rather Franco’s erratic thinking.

The rhythm of the writing is a result of the protagonist’s thinking.

The text is made up of short phrases, one after the other, phrases that, like thoughts, run over one another. It’s a text that has a lot of periods and few commas.92

Often throughout the text, the way that Franco speaks creates its own meaning, different from that which his words suggest. Franco’s frantic rhythm, from the very first moment of the text, begs interpretation: can we take his words at face value, that he is like “a character out of

Greek mythology,” Flash, and Rocky Balboa,93 if he choppily spits the words out at us with rapid-fire delivery?

And then there’s Franco’s heavy use of slang, that “language particular to a particular group.”94 For Von Hummel, “slang reuses and reorganizes formal language and proposes new interweavings that amplify the original meaning of the words it employs. Slang is a kind of deviant language.”95 The slang in Franco gives us a sense of Franco’s social class, in

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addition to allowing the audience to peek into different worlds, like that of the police force or that of a community of trans prostitutes. For Von Hummel, both rhythm and slang, as aspects of speech and materials in their own right, create their own meaning beyond the meaning of the words they express.

In addition to exploring the relationship between speech and the content of the spoken word, Von Hummel also explored how speech affects our perception of images.96 As she explains,

Speech doesn’t only affect the meaning of words but also our perception of the body that emits them. As an example, the image of authority that the police uniform seeks to project can be easily toppled through the alteration of the sound of the voice of the man who wears the uniform, because speech is a kind of frame.

Culturally we associate certain images with certain sounds, and it seems strange to us, continuing the above example, to imagine a police officer with a ‘shrill’ voice or one who stutters or lisps.97

Von Hummel’s exploration of the relationship between speech and images fits squarely within her understanding of what theatre is, the art of creating material relationships. She wanted to take two materials, speech and images, put them in diverse relationships with one another, and allow these relationships to create sensations, perhaps suggesting different meanings from those present in the content of the text.

With regard to how Von Hummel actually engaged in the exploration of these material questions, Von Hummel explored possibilities “at times completely arbitrarily, others while looking for a certain effect, but always seeking to affect the content through sound.”98 In order to modify the actor’s speech as if he were a ventriloquist, she used

“amplification of and intervention in the actor’s voice through the use of microphones and sound effects.”99 Before acquiring the microphone and sound effects, Von Hummel and the

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actor began simply, trying to determine if and how this idea could work on stage. At first, she asked the actor to read passages with different voices. From there, they filmed the actor lip- synching while Von Hummel herself read the text. Once they proceeded to using a microphone and machine to produce effects, they worked the scenes without modification at first and later experimented with different effects. While they didn’t decide a priori that the vocal effects would determine the actor’s body and movement, vocal effects inevitably began to affect the actor’s body.100 Throughout this technical exploration, Von Hummel was experimenting with different material relationships, and she eventually chose those relationships most effective at generating sensations in herself as a spectator.

Further, in engaging in this staging experiment with the microphone and sound effects, Von Hummel discovered an unexpected side effect. She had always known that she would have to use a microphone because she wanted it to be as if Franco were “possessed by another voice.”101 This way of working, with the director inserting an effect on an actor’s voice, changes the relationship between the director and actor:

Normally you give an actor a note, and the actor has to process it, understand it, so that they can then execute it, but with this method, I could change his voice by myself, as if he were a puppet . . . because he would be acting and suddenly I would change his voice without explaining it to him, but by simply affecting him . . . so it was like an immediate note that didn’t go through the actor’s filter.102

What results is much more a “co-construction”103 of the role between actor and director. Von

Hummel’s beliefs about acting (allowing sensations of reality to affect the body) and character (an artificial construction that condenses pieces of reality in the actor’s body) made this technical exploration and discovery possible.

Von Hummel also engaged in other techniques in her exploration of speech in

Franco. She keeps a collection of rehearsal music, which she occasionally used as a rhythmic

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basis for the actor’s reading of the text in rehearsal. 104 They also explored what she termed

“actor secrets”105 for text delivery. Though much of the text is directed at the audience, they did not treat the audience members as such:

In one episode he acts as if he were talking to a social worker, in another we imagined that he was talking to a lawyer, but these ideas aren’t explicit, no one knows about it. It’s an actor secret that serves to direct the text in a certain way. Because talking to a general versus talking to your sister are two different things.106

These additional methods, the use of music and “actor secrets” can be understood alongside the amplification and manipulation of the actor’s voice as strategies designed to affect speech as stage material.

Von Hummel also explored the relationship between speech and character, both as it relates to the main character’s changing vocal and speech patterns and as it relates to the introduction of other characters.”107 As we have already learned, Von Hummel believes in a moment-to-moment approach to character creation, rather than a psychological approach that requires consistency throughout a performance. In exploring staging possibilities in Franco, she asserts that a character does not have only one voice, and by releasing these diverse voices from within the same character, she complicates the viewer’s perception of Franco’s image:

Franco destabilizes perception just like a ventriloquist. In some episodes he maneuvers the puppet at will, a puppet that, in this case, is himself; in others the puppet acquires protagonism and, through his strange voice, betrays the image of the police officer.108

By repeatedly intervening in the actor’s voice with different effects, Von Hummel creates a complicated series of divergent sensorial pictures of Franco with which spectators reckon.

One could see Von Hummel’s exploration of the changing microphone effects on Franco’s

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voice as taking her foundational belief in a moment-to-moment character construction to a technical extreme.

Not only did Von Hummel challenge the idea that one character has one voice, but she also decided that Franco, as a character, would voice other characters who appear in the text. Pizarro’s text does not explicitly indicate the appearance of characters other than

Franco; it is simply clear from the language of the monologue itself. Take, for example, this moment when Franco’s friend and colleague speaks:

That guy that I locked up in the cell, he wasn’t my Franco! That was some common Franco. And my friend was never a common person!109

The use of the third person and distinct point of view indicate the character shift. And while the playwright confirms that she imagines that the actor who plays Franco would also play the other characters, Von Hummel makes a fascinating decision: it’s not the actor who plays the other characters, it’s Franco. And further, Franco won’t play the other characters; he’ll play their effect on him:

It’s the subjective effect of the mother’s speech on Franco that interests me.

The same thing happens with, for example, Parra’s speech: my interest isn’t in his testimony but rather in his description of Franco and the way in which it affects Franco’s self-esteem. Once again, it’s not about Parra, but rather about the effect he has on Franco. The choice to put Parra’s words in Franco’s mouth reinforces the effect of these words on Franco’s body.

The intention is to transform Parra’s testimony, as with that of the trans prostitute, in a force that affects Franco’s body.110

In other words, Von Hummel transforms the other characters into sensations that affect

Franco’s body. In so doing, Von Hummel effectively layers in additional complexity to the diverse sensations of reality that Franco’s body experiences throughout the production.

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Von Hummel’s exploration of speech as stage material began with permitting herself a unique reading of the text that allowed her to identify specific textual elements with which she was most fascinated, in this case, Franco’s use of rhythm and slang. Both her technical experimentation and her decisions regarding Franco’s changing voice involved experimenting and observing how changes in the relationship between speech and other stage materials created different overall compositions that might then provoke different sensations in the observer. Additionally, her technical experiments and decisions to change Franco’s voice significantly increased the number of possible material relationships, and as a result, exponentially expanded the number of possible sensations.

“Locked up in his uniform”: compositions that create material vibrations

As mentioned previously, Von Hummel was also exploring another overarching thematic idea: the idea of being confined, not only in a jail cell, but also “locked up” inside the police officer’s uniform. Von Hummel explored this idea in rehearsals through various methods, and when reflecting on her explorations in her thesis, she grouped them under two organizational headings: (1) “the uniform as a contour” and (2) “the body as polyphony.”111

Although these categorical divisions were made after engaging in the methods of exploration

(rather than shaping the methods from the beginning), they prove useful in understanding

Von Hummel’s approach, so we will preserve them here. Under the heading “the uniform as a contour,” Von Hummel explored both the material relationship between the costume and the actor’s body and between the costume and other stage materials. Under the heading “the body as polyphony,” Von Hummel explored three avenues: the oscillation of the actor’s voice, the actor’s movement, and proliferation of Franco’s body through the use of other bodies.

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Just as Von Hummel’s interest in Franco’s speech was born of material realities that the text offered, so was her initial fascination with Franco’s uniform. Not only does the text make numerous, explicit references to Franco’s uniform, but further, the title of the play explicitly references the uniform through wordplay. Franco is the name of the titular character; however, the word “franco,” when it is a part of the expression “estar de franco,” refers to when a police officer is off-duty.112 Von Hummel saw this wordplay as reinforcing the contradiction between the idea of Franco when he is in uniform and Franco when he is out of uniform.113 Here again we see how Von Hummel’s staging explorations, guided by her own fascinations, are rooted in elements present in the text.

In spite of the text’s explicit mentions of Franco’s uniform and the symbolic weight it is given, it is also dramaturgically clear that Franco would not be in uniform at the time the monologue occurs. At the top of the monologue, Franco is already in jail, and when he recounts the murder of his first love, he claims that he was “de franco” (off duty), wearing jeans. A first, crucial step in this staging exploration was Von Hummel’s choice to ignore this aspect of the text. Von Hummel was not interested in exploring the police uniform as an abstract or symbolic concept, but as a force on Franco’s body. Even in the exploration of a thematic question around the uniform, Von Hummel must convert the uniform into a stage material for exploration.

With regard to the body that would inhabit the uniform, Von Hummel purposefully cast an actor who is five feet four inches tall and does not have an athletic build because she wanted to create tension between the actor’s body and the image that the police uniform wants to project.114 In considering all the options at her disposal with regard to the appearance of the uniform, Von Hummel made one key aesthetic choice related to fit: the

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uniform would be a little tight, especially around the hips.115 This slight “misfit” imbues the relationship between the actor’s body and uniform with tension. With both of these tensions, that of the actor’s body and that of the uniform’s snug fit, she maintained that

The intervention shouldn’t be obvious, it should be faint yet visible. Choosing interference rather than rupture (tightening the costume versus ripping it, for example) responds to [her] interest in affecting perception on a sensory level rather than an intellectual one.116

Here we see Von Hummel making aesthetic choices based on her intuition and designed, not to produce story, but to produce sensations of tension.

After making the modification to the uniform’s fit and observing the ramifications,

Von Hummel noticed a material side effect: the actor’s hips appeared more or less prominent in certain episodes as a result. Through this observation, Von Hummel realized that her treatment of the uniform made it act as a kind of contour between Franco’s body and the rest of the stage.117 To understand Von Hummel’s meaning completely, we again have to return to Deleuze:

Let us return to Bacon’s three pictorial elements: the large fields as a spatializing material structure; the Figure, the Figures and their fact; and the place – that is, the round area, the ring, or the contour, which is the common limit of the Figure and the field. The shape of the contour seems to be very simple: round or oval; it is rather its color that poses problems, because of the dynamic double relationship in which it is caught up. The contour, as a “place,” is in fact the place of an exchange in two directions: between the material structure and the Figure, and between the Figure and the field. The contour is like a membrane through which this double exchange flows. Something happens in both directions. If painting has nothing to narrate and no story to tell, something is happening all the same, something which defines the functioning of the painting.118

To illuminate the idea of the contour with a specific example, let us return to Bacon’s Study after Velazquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X. The most immediately noticeable contour in this painting is the golden papal chair, which clearly demarcates a boundary between the

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Pope and his surroundings. In her thesis, Von Hummel posits convincingly that this painting contains a sort of double contour made up of the chair and the Pope’s “uniform.”119 This combination of papal ornamentation acts as a location of two-way exchange between the

Pope’s body and his surroundings.

Von Hummel realized that there existed an exchange between Franco’s body and his uniform, in addition to an exchange between Franco’s uniform and his surroundings:

It constitutes a contour that acts in two directions simultaneously. On the one hand, as a symbolic contour, where the tension is located exclusively between the body and the uniform, excluding the rest of the stage elements, and on the other hand, as a stage contour, where it is the scene in its entirety that ricochets off of the uniform- contour.120

As practically the only stable scenographic element,

The uniform, as a boundary, withstands the onslaughts of every staging operation.

Franco never takes off his uniform. His gestures, slang, voice, and speech all bounce off of it. His uniform seems to embrace a certain vocal register, a certain tone, certain gestures, while rejecting others.121

Although Von Hummel made this connection with Deleuze’s idea of the contour in reflecting on her decisions after having already made them, it is worth mentioning because of how it illuminates the action created by material relationships. As Deleuze says, “If painting has nothing to narrate and no story to tell, something is happening all the same.”122 Similarly, in

Von Hummel’s conception of theatre, which does not seek to tell a story, “something is happening all the same.” Materials are being arranged to create relationships that create dynamic exchanges, or “vibrate,”123 and these vibrations provoke powerful sensations in onlookers.

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In addition to realizing that her staging explorations had resulted in the uniform becoming a contour, Von Hummel also realized that other of her staging explorations resulted in Franco becoming a polyphonic body:

Franco is, then, a polyphony of bodies. A polyphony of gesture, voice, and kinetics.124

Perhaps the main staging exploration that led to this polyphonic effect was Von Hummel’s exploration of voice and speech, which resulted in episodic fluctuations of vocal effects and speech patterns. Since Von Hummel proposed that speech patterns affect our perception of images or the bodies that emit them, and she regularly modified Franco’s speech and voice throughout the performance, Franco gradually became a series of manifold bodies rather than one homogeneous body. In addition to the exploration of Franco’s varied voices, two other staging explorations resulted in Franco’s polyphonic body: (1) variations in the actor’s movement by episode and (2) the proliferation of Franco’s body into multiple bodies on stage.

Just as Franco’s voice and speech differed by episode, so did his movement patterns.

Von Hummel took advantage of the text’s episodic structure to invest in the construction of a heterogeneous Franco:

The text’s episodic structure proved useful for intensifying both the differences among the different episodes and the way in which each episode affects Franco’s body. I sought to inscribe these differences in Franco’s body and speech by rehearsing an acting technique founded on dissonance, imagining, for example, recounting a brutal beating through effeminate gestures, or a high-pitched voice emerging from a body that insists on reaffirming its masculinity through a uniform and weapons, among many other possibilities.125

These varied movement patterns allow us to see a Franco who barely moves, with only an almost imperceptible sway, pushed up from the ground into his body, with no activation of

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his limbs, as if his limbs and torso were all one unit. And in another moment, we see a

Franco who swaggers as if he were attempting to eat up as much space as possible, with his arms and hands in unending gesticulation. These divergent movement patterns result in distinct versions of Franco’s body that seem to want to break free from his uniform. As Von

Hummel puts it:

The uniform-contour seems incapable of containing the multiplicity of Franco’s body. This body, different in every episode–at times only slightly and at other in open contradiction–defies and struggles against the limits imposed by the uniform. It blossoms against the uniform.126

In Franco, Von Hummel inscribed the stage composition with varying movement patterns by episode, a creative decision that makes sense given her belief that moment-to-moment character construction creates complex characters. In the case of Franco, this decision also served to create tension, but not just between Franco and his uniform and between Franco and the rest of the stage: the varied movement created tension within the character of Franco, himself, as he traversed different versions of himself from episode to episode.

A final exploration through the use of other on-stage bodies and latex masks also contributed to the creation of Franco’s polyphonic body. Von Hummel’s decision that Franco would voice other characters’ effects on him was discussed in the previous section, and as

Von Hummel signals,

It’s Franco who articulates the words spoken by Parra and the trans prostitute, it’s Franco who, with his body, lays out the different perspectives surrounding the event. But how does one account for this in the staging? Since it’s not about delivering the information but rather playing out the tension caused by the coexistence of different perspectives, in a text that, up until now, had occurred as a monologue.127

Because Von Hummel opted to treat other characters’ testimonies as effects on Franco, rather than as non-Franco personalities, she did not use any of the varying vocal effects explored to

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signal the emergence of different characters. Similarly, she didn’t use other on-stage bodies to indicate the emergence of other characters, rather she “composed” with them.128

As described under The Performance section of this case study, Von Hummel composed with two feminine-presenting bodies, one short and one tall, in pink cleaning uniforms. These bodies didn’t provide any story-related significance, but rather created material vibrations with the rest of the composition. Von Hummel also doubled Franco during his retelling of the crime through the appearance of another body, an off-duty Franco.

It was clear that this second body was also Franco due to the pairing of this other body’s costume (jeans) and Franco’s words:

I came back two hours later, But as myself. I came back as Franco, I mean as myself, No uniform, Just me, As I am. As I would go out on any old day. I like jeans.129

However, Von Hummel didn’t use this doubling in order to reenact the murder (which would tell a story), but rather to establish material tension between these two versions of Franco.

This utilization of other bodies establishes a visual language that becomes intuitively legible to audience members: the emergence of other bodies does not signify the emergence of other characters.

Von Hummel builds upon this visual language in the final scene, in which, in addition to other bodies, she reutilizes and multiplies the mask that Franco had worn earlier in the performance. As Von Hummel explains,

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The last episode works like a relay: it begins with Franco’s account, followed by the trans prostitute’s description of the crime, then comes Parra, who recounts the moment he detained Franco but, more than anything, the shock he felt, and finally, the story returns to Franco’s mouth, who invokes his mother one last time, as he hangs from the rope with which he has hanged himself.

In this way, in the last episode, all of the play’s characters converge. They do not appear as autonomous beings but as projections of Franco himself: four different bodies, all with the same face, appear on stage.130

The decision to replicate Franco’s mask across four bodies is not intended to provoke a logical, story-related reaction in audience members, i.e. “Oh, I understand. They are wearing

Franco’s mask, so they must all be Franco.” Rather, this decision is intended to provoke sensations. For my part, as a viewer, the sensations I experienced were eerie and unsettling.

Since Von Hummel utilized these additional cast members to compose with their bodies rather than portray characters, her interactions with these actors were quite different.

She only began working with them at the very end of the rehearsal process, when she already had an idea of what she needed from them. With these actors, she essentially told them exactly what to do: “‘come on this way, walk this way . . . you move over here.’ Without them understanding very much at the beginning, but later on they understand. [Von Hummel] thinks that one can understand a posteriori.”131 Her initial idea to involve another body in the space was born purely of intuitive desire:

Now this, I really don’t know why, but I always thought that in this place, just for compositional purposes, nothing else, no other reason . . . I wanted there to be another body in the background, a janitor, with his back turned so that we never saw his face . . . with a cleaning cart. I don’t know why. I think it was because it seemed beautiful to me, and I thought it could compose well.132

Further, Von Hummel reached the conclusion that this other person should be tall through intuition and trial, during a mid-process demonstration:

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There was a very tall student among my classmates, and I asked him to stand in for a moment, with his back to us. When I saw my actor next to him, I really liked the difference in their sizes, and so I decided, no, the other person has to be tall. I asked this classmate because I needed a body for the demonstration, and among my classmates, he happened to be the most unique because of his height.133

In a similar fashion, she then thought, “and what if there were also a very short person?”134

Von Hummel emphasizes that the decision-making process was based purely on composition:

. . . it was just to generate tension, and I can’t really explain the reason much further . . . After the fact I’m able to see a meaning . . . and whoever sees it, I suppose they explain it to themselves… they interpret it. I don’t know, and I don’t really care to know, either . . . 135

Von Hummel’s intuitive desires are discernibly woven throughout her creative process as she seeks to compose with whatever stage materials she has available to her, including actors’ bodies.

Von Hummel’s exploration of her fascination with Franco’s uniform began with allowing herself to disobey the text and materialize the uniform on stage. All of her decisions, from casting, costume, vocal effects, movement, to the incorporation of other on- stage bodies, were made from intuitive desires to create compositions of stage materials that stimulated powerful sensations, often born of tension. Her belief that “theatre is like a painting, but in motion,136 is particularly evident in her explorations of body and uniform in

Franco. Whatever her explorations, Von Hummel always seeks, not to create story, but to create material vibrations or exchanges, that which Deleuze calls “something . . . happening all the same.”137

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Conclusion: A Summary of Creative Approaches Explored in Franco

Von Hummel’s creative process for Franco illuminates her directing process more generally. To begin with, she selects a text that unleashes her imagination. Von Hummel tends to grab hold of a handful of elements, present in the text, though she does not hold herself accountable to the text but rather her own interpretation of it. With Franco, Von

Hummel was most fascinated with the protagonist’s speech, particularly his frantic rhythm and slang, the police uniform, and the jail cell. Von Hummel imagines the material possibilities that these textual elements offer, and she recognizes that, though unarticulated, questions of thematic and staging interest then guide her rehearsal explorations. In the case of

Franco, as Von Hummel puts it,

From the very first reading, I imagined a body that would proliferate in spite of the protagonist. I imagined the idea of a physical and unconscious rebellion by Franco’s body, an unintentional insurrection. Hence, the theatrical techniques that were employed: the constant intervention in the sound of the actor’s voice and its influence on the image of the police uniform, the use of latex masks, the replicated body, etc.138

Once rehearsals begin, Von Hummel shares her desires, those ideas that fascinate her, with the rest of the creative team so that they might all begin to imagine possibilities together.

Von Hummel uses rehearsals to experiment with different material relationships and compositions, beginning with table work. In Franco, given her interest in inserting “one thousand voices into one body,” table work involving different vocal and speech possibilities was an important precursor to more technical explorations with a microphone and artificial sound effects. That being said, table work is always an essential part of Von Hummel’s process, as it allows her to use voice and speech to study a text, to look for hidden material possibilities within it.

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Once rehearsals occur in space rather than at the table, Von Hummel is still composing, simply with more stage materials at her disposal. Costume decisions, blocking, and any design elements are all materials with which she creates her “painting in motion.” In

Franco, given her fascination with the idea of the uniform and being trapped within it, Von

Hummel tightened the actor’s costume, particularly around the hip area, and paid close attention to how this change in one stage material affected the rest of the composition, including the appearance of the actor’s body and the rest of the stage materials.

In this particular costume decision and in all directing decisions, Von Hummel uses her own desire and intuition to choose the best stage arrangement, that which provokes powerful sensations in her as an onlooker. She is never looking to tell a story nor represent reality. Often Von Hummel is looking for tension, and in the case of Franco she engaged in voice and speech explorations that created tension, both with the protagonist’s words and with the image that the police uniform wants to project. Her decision to tighten Franco’s costume created tension with Franco’s body and movement patterns. She incorporated other on-stage bodies, not as characters, but as compositional elements that created sensory tension. Von Hummel utilized the text’s episodic structure to infuse the character of Franco with vocal and bodily contradictions, and in so doing, she imbued the character with tension not only palpable in each moment but also increasingly perceptible across time.

Through the rehearsal process in Franco, Von Hummel explored new creative techniques, particularly the external manipulation of the protagonist’s voice, that brought along with them exciting and unexpected discoveries like the ability to change the creative relationship between actor and director. Since this creative process was part of a graduate program that required her to write a reflection on her process, Von Hummel also recognized

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and named long-held beliefs and long-practiced techniques. In her summary of her own reflection on her process, last in her list of takeaways is that “sensation is the true reality of the stage. And its emergence depends upon putting diverse elements, that mutually and constantly affect one other, in relationship and tension.”139

Von Hummel’s Expansion of Theatre

Von Hummel has long honed an intuitive approach to theatrical creation that rests on her belief that the stage is its own reality. Rather than limiting herself to the textual reality,

Von Hummel boldly follows her imagination even when it diverts from the text, and she allows her unique sensibilities to serve as the measure for artistic decision-making. Most recently, Von Hummel has expanded her own theatre practice through the incorporation of

Deleuze’s theory of sensation, not into the way she practices theatre, but in the way she talks about her theatre practices. Deleuze’s language of sensation reveals Von Hummel’s theatrical philosophy to be a comprehensive and accessible system as his language of sensation provides theoretical language that illuminates Von Hummel’s highly individual and intuitive approach to theatremaking. Von Hummel’s application of Deleuze’s idea of sensation to theatremaking contributes to the expansion of theatre by offering a new definition of theatre with sensation as the measure for artistic choices: theatre is the art of creating material relationships that seek to provoke sensations of reality. This, in turn, allows for the generation of new technique and aesthetics based on the foundation of sensation, and further,

Von Hummel’s understanding of theatre expands the possibilities of theatre criticism and analysis.

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CHAPTER 3

IGNACIA GONZÁLEZ: DIRECTING PERCEPTUAL EXPERIENCES

Figure 41. Ignacia González. Photograph by Carlos Martinez, 2018. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

González’s Career

Ignacia Francisca de Paula González Torres (b. 1989) began studying theatre in college after having studied architecture her first year. Both of her parents are architects, so when she moved from her hometown of Ancud, on the island of Chiloé, to the capital city of

Santiago, some 700 miles north, architecture seemed a logical choice. According to

González, her first year went well because students designed exciting objects like asteroids and because she worked with clay as a medium. As she prepared for her second year of

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studies, however, a professor told her that she would have to trade her preferred medium of clay for cardboard models in order to measure angles and build objects in real life later.

González replied, "Oh, the thing is I don’t want to build [them] in real life. I like to imagine

[them], but I don’t care about building [them].”1 After deciding to abandon her architecture studies, González’s next thought was to return to ballet. She had already studied ballet for fourteen years before leaving for college, and to this day she credits ballet as having helped her survive the formal education system so far. However, González now found herself out of practice for a year and a half, and further, the requisite discipline did not appeal to her. And suddenly, González found herself turning to theatre while she weathered what she terms an

“existential crisis.”2

González signed up for four theatre workshops, and as a result, in the period of a semester, was involved in four different productions. As “connected” as she felt with something meaningful again, when fellow students asked her if she was going to participate in upcoming auditions for undergraduate programs, she replied that she was studying architecture and that this foray into theatre was just a brief “parenthesis.”3 González did, however, audition, and when she was accepted into the undergraduate acting program at the

Universidad Católica* in 2009, she decided, “why not?”4 At the time, she had seen very few productions in her life, and she didn’t really know what a career in theatre entailed. While this meant that she didn’t have aspirations like, “I want to make theatre like this or that person,” this also meant that she entered theatre “very free of stereotypes.”5

* See footnote p. 4. 144

She soon realized that she didn’t actually enjoy acting very much, but she eventually found her unique path in theatre through studying with Manuela Infante.* According to

González, Infante offered students a world of theory, reading, and creative methodologies based in devised theatre. González describes devised theatre methods in this way:

a process in which you’re really not looking for results, in which the text is no longer the central element in the process, in which you have to reduce your performance anxiety because you have to confront the unknown . . . and only in confronting the unknown will new paths, new materials, open up to you.6

Then everything crystallized for González. She went on to earn a graduate degree in Theatre

Studies and Practices from the Universidad Católica in 2016, and it was during her graduate program that she felt she wanted to direct. When González began to direct, she realized that her time studying architecture made sense. González now understands that, when she told her professor that she wanted to imagine things but not build them in real life:

Deep down, that was directing. I only want to speculate about possibilities over and over again, but I don’t want to them engraved, like on a building, for example. In other words, the ephemeral nature of theatre . . . is very important to me.7

For González, speculating again and again is at the core of her directing practice.

Memorable Moments

In considering milestones from her career, González cites three directing projects: La fábrica de vidrio (The Glass Factory, 2015), Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo (Telepathy,

Nostalgia for the Body, 2016), and Ella y los cerdos (She and the Pigs, 2019). Additionally, she cites two other formative experiences: her experience as a participant in and creator of research-based theatre companies and her teaching assistantship with Manuela Infante. Punto ciego (Blind Spot, 2018), another directing project that González mentioned as a milestone,

* See footnote p. 2. 145

will be detailed later in the chapter as a case study. Although González’s core beliefs about theatre will be explored later in this chapter, these brief highlights are shared here as they provide insight into how González has begun her theatrical career.

Research Groups: Theatre Outside the Market

Upon graduation, González and four other classmates, all of whom had studied with

Infante, formed Compañía Teatro Wendy (Wendy Theatre Company) in 2012. What united them was a desire to incorporate the methodologies learned with Infante into their professional lives. Although after about two years the company split up in order to allow each participant to go her separate way, this group provided González with courage to confront theatre from angles other than production-related ones. As González puts it, she is actually not very “productive” because she spends a long time on each project. The courage that this group experience provided González was based on the knowledge that there were others out there who, rather than simply enter the mainstream theatre market, wanted to do research. From then on, González has always approached theatre projects from a research angle rather than a production one.8

This prior experience with a research-based theatre company helped propel

González’s decision to form her own group, Compañía Persona (Person Company), in 2015, with which she has directed three works: La fábrica de vidrio (2015); Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo (2016); and Punto ciego (2018). The interdisciplinary artistic group’s research efforts center on challenging the traditional perceptual experience of the audience in order to value alternative ways of “perceiving and conceiving of reality” and to develop new theatrical languages.9 The company’s research seeks to shift away from a reliance on visual elements at the expense of other senses, and toward other sensory experiences, particularly

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those provided by sound. For Compañia PERSONA, “sound has a primordial role in the stage event; charged with transmitting, disorienting, deforming, and mobilizing the audience’s perceptual connection with the stage.”10 The choice of the name Persona refers to the persona of actors’ masks, that shares etymological origins with the Latin personare, meaning to resound.

La fábrica de vidrio: Theatre Outside Academia

González was working with Compañía Persona on her very first directing project at the same time that she was completing her Master’s thesis, Percibir en la oscuridad: alteraciones de la noción de cuerpo, tiempo y espacio escénico en la percepción auditiva y visual (Perceiving in Darkness: Alterations of the Notions of Theatrical Body, Time, and

Space in Auditory and Visual Perception). Although she was part of a graduate program,

González wanted her first directing project to take place outside academia. Rather than feel that she was under evaluation, González wanted to feel free and have “the legitimate possibility to make mistakes.”11 For this reason, she switched from a practice-based Master of Arts in Directing to the theory-based Master of Arts in Theatre Studies and Practices.

Although the requirements of the Theatre Studies and Practices program did not require a practice-based project, she simultaneously directed for the first time in her own independent practice-based project, La fábrica de vidrio (The Glass Factory, 2015).12

La fábrica de vidrio was a site-specific piece in an abandoned warehouse in the

Recoleta neighborhood of Santiago. The work follows a group of anthropologists who urgently attempt to discover the origins of a recently uncovered object in order to prove its

“historical value” and preserve the surrounding land from the threat of real estate interests.13

When they first began working on this entirely unfunded project, the warehouse was

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disgustingly dirty, so one of the first rehearsals involved removing the trash. And further rehearsals were equally unorthodox, including one in which they explored what happened when they sprayed the walls with water (tiles were hidden under layers of mud). This experience stands out in González’s mind as significant, not only because it was her first time directing, but also because of its independence from academia. As González puts it, theatre doesn’t necessarily have to be taught within universities, and

inside universities, theatre has to legitimize itself, sometimes it has to seem intelligent, it has to dress up as a university discipline, and I didn’t want to dress it up as intelligent, as a thesis, or as anything.14

This directing experience served as an important reminder to González that true research, not intelligence, is the goal.15

Figure 42. Abandoned warehouse for the site-specific work La fábrica de vidrio. Photograph by Ignacia González, 2015. Courtesy of Ignacia González. 148

Figure 43. Set of La fábrica de vidrio. Photograph by Juan Hoppe, 2015. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo: Visibility in Chilean Theatre Circles

González’s next directing project was Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo (Telepathy,

Nostalgia for the Body, 2016), a “stage documentary” that explores a hyper-civilized society’s progress in its control over its citizens.16 An off-stage voice guides audience members as they observe two bodies engage in physical and psychic explorations in attempts to dominate their mental activity.17 Now with two directing projects under her belt, González applied and was one of six accepted to the 2016 Stage Directing Training Program for early-

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career directors organized by the Fundación Teatro a Mil* (the Teatro a Mil Foundation) and the Goethe-Institut Chile.† The rigorous training program involves guided directing workshops with established Chilean directors, artistic residencies in Germany, with preparatory German-language training, and the development of an individual directing project for presentation in the International Santiago a Mil Festival.‡ González would go on to work with prominent Berlin-based theatre collective Rimini Protokoll.18

González’s selection was important for her because it was the first time that she felt that her work “had value for someone.”19 Up until then, her work had been met with low audience attendance and responses of “what you do is very strange” and “we don’t get it.”20

According to González, these two important institutions made these six young directors visible in Chilean theatre circles. Her resulting work, Punto ciego (Blind Spot), opened in

2018, and afterward, González met a juror who shared that she had supported her application to the Stage Directing Training Program. The juror explained that González was the only director that she hadn’t known and she wondered, “who is this Ignacia González?”21 Perhaps the most significant takeaway for González was what she describes as a personal one: she no longer feels that the theatremakers she admires are that far away from her. This realization began the incubation of an idea that has now come to fruition: moving back to the south of

Chile as a way of combatting the theatrical centralization of the country.

* Fundación Teatro a Mil is the foundation that houses the Santiago a Mil International Theatre Festival, in addition to other programs like the Stage Directing Training Program (Program de Formación en Dirección Escénica). † The Goethe-Institut is the cultural institution of the Federal Republic of Germany. Outside Germany, it promotes the German language and international cultural cooperation. ‡ See footnote p. 100. 150

Figure 44. Moment from Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo. Photograph by Juan Ramírez, 2016. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Figure 45. Moment from Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo. Photograph by Juan Ramírez, 2016. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

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Figure 46. Moment from Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo. Photograph by Juan Ramírez, 2016. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Teaching Assistantship with Manuela Infante: The Creation of Actor Training Methods

In 2018 González had the “dream-come-true” opportunity to assist Manuela Infante in her course, Epic and Narrative Staging Workshop, for fourth-year undergraduate students at the Universidad Católica. The course was interrupted by massive feminist student protests that paralyzed higher education institutions across the country, but González notes that

Infante, even while the course was unable to meet, encouraged students to engage in critical reflections on the movement. Infante maintained contact with students during the break, sharing readings and reflections and deftly allowing the intense sociopolitical context to

“nourish” the course, as González puts it.22 Once the course was able to start up again, the whole classroom atmosphere changed, and questions and discussions were now clearly

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influenced by feminism. As a result, the course’s actor training methods had to change.

Suddenly male-identifying students started to say that they wanted to train in high heels, to which González replied, “Let’s do it . . . Now is a time in which to expand oneself.”23

It was precisely this ability to create new actor training methods that so affected

González from her experience in the course. As González puts it, Infante gave her “free rein” to develop new actor training methods, which is something that she finds fascinating.24 With

Infante’s guidance, González was able to polish the way in which she develops and implements actor training. From González’s previous experience as Infante’s student, she was already familiar with Infante’s take on the biomechanical actor training technique of work with sticks. The exercise is simple: students toss a stick back and forth to one another, and as Infante presents it, the goal is to “relax in the midst of difficulty.”25 And González adds, “The actor takes a material, or energy, whatever it is, and transforms it over and over again.”26 During her teaching assistantship with Infante, however, González observed how

Infante was able to build upon this basic training by incorporating her own ideas and interests.

Infante has been actively developing a non-anthropocentric theatre for many years that have resulted in such productions as Estado vegetal (Vegetative State, 2017), and one influence on her developments has been the idea of speculative realism. Key influences have included the ideas of French philosopher Bruno Latour and political theorist Jane Bennett’s

2010 book Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things.27 González observed as Infante took some of Bennett’s ideas, like “the force of things,” and applied them to the stick training by having students practice allowing nonhuman objects to affect them. As a concrete example,

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We might be involved in a set design training, and so instead of throwing a stick, we would throw a giant television, and we would let it squash us, and then it became clear that when you allow a non-human force to manifest itself, space was made for what we called material encounters. Because, if you were doing an exercise and all of a sudden, a television squashed you, you had permission to take your time, suspend your anxiety, and exit this material encounter with a lot of calm, allowing this nonhuman force to express itself.28

At the time, González was working on another iteration of Punto ciego (Blind Spot), and she developed unique actor training methods which will be explored in detail later in this chapter.

Her simultaneous work with Infante and her work on Punto ciego nourished one another.

Ella y los Cerdos: Work with a Text

González’s most recent project constituted her first experience directing a previously written text. Ella y los cerdos (She and the Pigs) was authored by her cousin, playwright

Leonardo González.* González worked on Ella y los cerdos in October of 2019 for the ninth annual playwriting festival La Rebelión de las Voces (The Rebellion of the Voices), organized by the Fundación Santiago Off, and she worked on it again in January of 2020 for the International Santiago OFF Festival.† González approached the opportunity to direct the staged reading for La Rebelión de las Voces as a chance to continue working with actress

Francisca Traslaviña‡ of Punto ciego and also to conclude the research process for Punto

* Leonardo González (b. 1987) is a Chilean playwright based in New York City, an alumnus of the undergraduate acting program at Universidad Católica de Chile and the NYU MFA in Creative Writing in Spanish program. He is recognized for his works Aquí no se ha enterrado nada (winner of the Teatro Nacional Chileno playwriting competition in 2012), Madre, he vuelto (premiered in 2014), Una pension en Yungay (published in 2016), and Las nanas (premiered in 2017). † Founded in 2012, the Festival Internacional Santiago OFF is an annual theatre festival that occurs over ten days in Santiago de Chile each January. The festival is hosted by the Fundación Santiago Off, which also organizes the playwriting festival La Rebelión de las Voces. For more information, visit https://santiagooff.com/programas-permanentes/festival-internacional/. ‡ Francisca Javiera Traslaviña Moreno (b. 1990) is a Chilean actress and theatre instructor who studied at the Universidad Católica de Chile. In addition to her work on Punto ciego (2018, 2019, 2019) and Ella y los cerdos (2019, 2020), she recently performed in La fórmula Shakespeare (Festival Internacional de Barroco de Almagro, 2019), Los invitados (2017), and Misandria y Misoginia: y otras cosas de internet (Festival de Egresados UC, 2017). She also recently produced The House of Cars (The Brick Theatre, NYC, 2018). 154

ciego by beginning a new project. González hoped that her first time directing a text would provide the two with a “textual foundation [that] would allow each of [them] . . . to delve into aspects that interested [her].”29 Traslaviña was interested in exploring looping her own voice while on stage, and González wanted to further her exploration of what she terms “a body in vocal transit,”30 a strategy first developed in Punto ciego. The inherent limitations of the staged reading format of the festival, which included a short rehearsal period and a lack of production elements such as set and lighting, allowed González to identify three creative elements on which to focus: the actress’s voice, the act of reading, and sound.

Ella y los cerdos is a loose adaptation of Roberto Bolaño’s* novel Amuleto (Amulet), based on the real-life 1968 massacre of student protestors in Tlatelolco, Mexico. The story follows Auxilio Lacouture, a Uruguayan poetess and professor who spends some two weeks locked in a university restroom while the massacre and continued unrest occur outside.

González’s initial fascination with the text revolved around the fact that Lacouture, locked in a restroom, only hears, but does not see, outside events. To this long-held interest in sound, a new thematic interest appealed to González: the effects of memory on time. The main character experiences

constant memory lapses and moments of confusion including . . . hallucinations and premonitions because she sometimes takes on the character of Cassandra . . . [and] suddenly she doesn’t know if she is in Chile in the 80s, she doesn’t know if she is in Mexico in ‘68, at times she thinks that she is in the 90s, in the 70s, and these twists in time form the written structure of the text.31

* Roberto Bolaño Ávalos (1953-2003) was a Chilean novelist, short story writer, poet, and a leading Latin American literary figure at the turn of the twenty-first century. He is known for Los detectives salvajes (1998) with which he won the Rómulo Gallegos Prize, and Nocturno de Chile (2000). Bolaño’s 2666 (2004) was published posthumously and launched a wide-scale translation of his work into English. 155

These interests in sound and memory’s effects on time served as the creative springboards for the pair’s rehearsal explorations.

Unsurprisingly, the greatest discoveries made during rehearsals for the staged reading were related to sound. One such discovery was that sound could act as “memory support.”32

The pair used the actress’s voice, three props (a pitcher of water, a cup, and a small bell), and a looping application on the actress’s cell phone in order to create diverse sound worlds.

They later discovered that these strategies could be justified from within the story, as if

"Auxilio Lacouture were trying to rebuild, with layers of sound, a soundscape that she only heard from inside the restroom.”33 Another strategy that the pair utilized was one that had been explored in González’s previous work and consists of recording on-stage sounds during rehearsal in order to extend them or repeat them beyond their on-stage occurrence during performance. For example, in one moment the actress would ring the bell and then stop ringing it, but the ringing sound would continue through the playing of the recorded sound.

These explorations brought about a huge realization regarding sound, memory, and time:

An action that I am doing, stops, but in a way the sound continues, and if I take away the sound, the sound still continues in your mind. And that begins to activate this idea of memory because . . . if later I mention to you the sound of the bell, you already heard it, and in a way your head begins to play it. It’s like how in Punto ciego we talked about visual remnants, here it was the sound remnant.34

Their shared sound design, Traslaviña’s creation of all of the live sounds and González’s creation of all of the pre-recorded sounds, led them to credit both of themselves as responsible for “sound research."35

González’s staged reading of Ella y los cerdos won La Rebelión de las Voces festival, and she was invited to stage a full production for the Santiago OFF Festival in January 2020.

When she explained to festival organizers that she had moved to southern Chile and would

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have few opportunities to meet with Traslaviña to continue rehearsals, organizers were so interested in another iteration of the work that the organizers proposed a “semi-production.”

Though unsure of the expectations of a “semi-production,” González and Traslaviña accepted and decided to expand the creative team. Though the boundaries among the roles and responsibilities were blurred, they recruited Universidad Católica-trained stage, lighting, and costume designer, Gabriela Torrejón (b. 1991), who had worked on Punto ciego and

Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo, to design the lighting, and multidisciplinary artist, designer, and director Fernanda Videla, alumna of Universidad Católica and the CalArts

MFA program in Scenic Design, to research and design “materials and objects.” They would maintain the same simplified set and reduced props, but they would push the material limits of the existing props and incorporate immersive lighting to convey the sensation of enclosure.

In keeping with González’s penchant for research, she held a three-day research- based residency with Traslaviña in which they explored sounds for Ella y los cerdos in the tranquility offered by González’s home in southern Chile. One methodological highlight from this residency is worth mentioning. González and Traslaviña wanted to explore the possibilities of sound and the material aspects of their carefully curated props, so they created a list of “materials" for exploration: sound, glasses of water, the text itself, and one new material—smoke. Next, they read the text and intuitively identified selections that aroused their curiosity of exploration. They also selected phrases from their own conversations and quotes from French anthropologist Marc Augé’s Le Temps en ruines (Time in Ruins, 2003) to create a list of textual fragments to explore. Lastly, they developed a list of their central thematic concepts: ruins, memory, time, and explosion. They then used these lists to create

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diverse combinations for exploration: each exploration included one concept (ruins, memory, time, or explosion), an action verb, and one material (sound, glasses of water, textual fragment, or smoke).

As an example, one quote from the text reads, "Today I woke up from a dream, there was a train, and snow, and a death,”36 and Traslaviña wanted to explore this quote through smoke. How might smoke wake one up (action verb) from a dream? As another example, how might one stretch (action verb) time (concept) with a glass of water (material)? The results of the latter example were included in the final performance:

The first time that the actress serves herself water, she serves it very slowly, and . . . she stretches that stream of water as much as possible, she takes as long as possible, and she . . . listens to how the water splashes, and this makes it seem like a trickle of water that grows prolongedly.37

As González puts it, this particular example allowed for time, or the experience of it, to

“appear” in the performance.38 They performed some thirty of these explorations and reserved ten or so as the most interesting. Their later work with Videla allowed them to discover even more sounds and integrate them seamlessly into the piece.

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Figure 47. Photograph of Ignacia González’s rehearsal notes for Ella y los cerdos, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Figure 48. Photograph of Ignacia González's rehearsal notes for Ella y los cerdos, 2019, edited to include an overlay of the English translation. Courtesy of Ignacia González. Edited by Mary Allison Joseph.

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Figure 49. Photograph of Ignacia González’s rehearsal notes for Ella y los cerdos, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González. 160

Figure 50. Photograph of Ignacia González's rehearsal notes for Ella y los cerdos, 2019, edited to include an overlay of the English translation. The word “compañero” was left untranslated as its usage is intentionally polyvalent: compañero means both “classmate” and “political comrade in arms.” Courtesy of Ignacia González. Edited by Mary Allison Joseph. 161

Figure 51. Photograph of Ignacia González’s rehearsal notes for Ella y los cerdos, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González. 162

Figure 52. Photograph of Ignacia González's rehearsal notes for Ella y los cerdos, 2019, edited to include an overlay of the English translation. Courtesy of Ignacia González. Edited by Mary Allison Joseph. 163

Figure 53. Moment from Ella y los cerdos. Photograph by Juan Hoppe, 2020. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Figure 54. Moment from Ella y los cerdos. Photograph by Juan Hoppe, 2020. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

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At Present: Theatre on the Fringes

González just wrapped Ella y los cerdos in January 2020, and she has been invited to direct an Argentinian vocal quartet with Chilean composer Pablo Aranda (b. 1960) this coming August. González is ecstatic to embark on this new project because she will be able to "dematerialize the stage of all theatrical convention and fiction and remain alone with . . . the material of sound.”39 As mentioned previously, González has recently realized her goal of moving back to the south of Chile where she plans to share her knowledge and experiences in her home region through organizing workshops and ultimately, founding her own theatre training school. She envisions the school as a “center for theatrical experimentation” that would allow for the creation of more regional theatrical languages.40 As she explains,

In Chile there is still this phenomenon of importing European aesthetics, from the United States, as well, and I strongly believe, especially now in the midst of this social movement,* that it is time for this decentralization of knowledge to also bring the possibility of creating its own aesthetics, its own themes.41

González’s bold vision for her future involves developing truly Chilean theatrical languages while at the same time working against the theatrical centralization of Chile, itself, by being based far outside Santiago. González doesn’t want “to be in the center;” she wants to be “on the fringes.”42

* González is referring to the mass protests that began in Chile in October of 2019 in response to a recent increase in subway fare and longstanding economic inequality. 165

Core Beliefs about Theatre: Speculation and Perceptual Experiences

Theatre: A Space for Speculation

González is clear that her approach to theatre is very much influenced by Infante’s teaching, and like Infante, González uses the stage and rehearsals to speculate. When speculating through theatre, González

takes philosophical concepts, or concerns that are perhaps more theoretical in nature, and tries to use the rehearsal space to speculate about how these same premises or concepts might operate in the actors’ bodies, in the lighting, in the sound, in the connection with the audience, in the spoken word.43

By “speculation,” González essentially means imagining answers to the question, “What would it be like if . . . ?” For example, in the site-specific La fábrica de vidrio (The Glass

Factory), the group speculated about the abandoned warehouse’s past. Because of its abandoned state, the company attempted to reconstitute its past through speculation: “We speculated with words and physical gestures, but we also speculated with sounds. What would this place have sounded like if it had really been a glass factory?”44

In Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo (Telepathy, Nostalgia for the Body), on the other hand, González and the cast speculated about the human body: what might the body sound like from the inside? In seeking possible answers for various internal organs, like the intestines, for example, the group exploited the sound possibilities of objects related to hygiene, including soap and surgery tools. González asserts that this speculative approach is transformative: taking one’s speculation to its limits constantly forces a director to "break with [her] own prejudices within [her] theatre work.”45 González describes this approach as having to do with “asking questions of theatre” which results in “an expansion of theatre

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itself.”46 Significantly, this breaking down of theatrical constructs also results in the breaking down of societal ones.

Actor Training: A Hinge Between the Stage and One’s Speculation

This speculative approach to theatremaking requires a reassessment of all of the theatrical elements at a director’s disposal, including actor training methods. As González puts it, "transforming a theory into a theatrical speculation requires a training specific to the problem.”47 As we saw earlier, González learned this firsthand during her teaching assistantship with Infante. She watched Infante speculate about non-anthropocentric theatre through questions like: what would theatre be like if nonhuman objects were the focus? And she witnessed this question generate actor training methods that included, as previously mentioned, throwing a television back and forth and giving into the weight of the television rather than resisting it. More often than not, González has learned, these new actor training methods also require a certain amount of “untraining” and unlearning of certain traditional methods and constructs, which include anything from the image actors are trained to project to the agility traditionally expected of actors. For González, actor training is "the hinge between the staging and the ideas you want to explore."48

Aesthetics: Perceptual Experiences

When asked to describe her aesthetic, González responded, “By aesthetic, do you mean perceptual experience?”49 Her question is revealing. Modern usage of the word

“aesthetic,” even in theatrical circles, tends to emphasize visuality over all else, and its usage can be as vague as meaning someone’s style. González’s understanding of aesthetic, however, goes back to the etymological roots of the word, from the Greek aisthētikós, meaning "of sense perception, sensitive, perceptive.”50 González believes that current

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mainstream theatrical aesthetics have been constructed based on specific and varied hegemonies, such as a prioritization of sight over other senses or the idea that actors should be beautiful acrobats. For González, these mainstream aesthetic preferences constrain theatrical creativity. For her part, she believes that "there must be infinite different paths that you can build for audiences, toward an infinite variety of perceptual experiences."51

González’s speculative approach to theatremaking always has aesthetic consequences because she reassesses all design elements, including actors’ bodies, in accordance with the ideas that she is exploring.

Personal Aesthetic Fascinations: Darkness and Sound

All of González’s directing projects have shared an interest in exploring the perceptual experience of darkness. A fellow director once asked her about her personal connection with darkness, beyond the theory and beyond the stage. Until then, González hadn’t considered it, but in that moment, she realized that her fascination with darkness had to do with her rural birthplace, the island of Chiloé:

When I was very little, the island didn’t have electricity, so nighttime still existed. The sun would set, and the moon would come out, and as a child you would have to imagine things, hear animal sounds . . . and so I told her that I thought it was because I felt nostalgia for darkness.52

This poetically expressed “nostalgia for darkness” can no longer be satisfied in a big city, with all its “illuminated signs and lights.”53 And this makes González ponder the inverse question: “why is society afraid of the dark? As a culture, what savagery do we believe to be unleashed by darkness?”54

In addition to exploring her own “nostalgia for darkness” and questions of darkness on stage, in 2015 González took a theoretical approach to these ideas in her thesis, Percibir

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en la oscuridad: Alteraciones de la noción de cuerpo, espacio y tiempo escénico en la percepción auditiva y visual (Perceiving in Darkness: Alterations of the Notions of Theatrical

Body, Time, and Space in Auditory and Visual Perception). In her ambitious thesis,

González not only examines the history of sight and sound in the theatre from antiquity through early-twentieth-century avant-garde movements, but she also draws from the fields of theatre studies, the psychology of perception, phenomenology, aesthetic studies, and visual studies, in addition to interviews with contemporary Chilean theatre artists, in order to propose theoretical concepts on darkness’s role in the theatre.

Hand in hand with González’s interest in darkness is her fascination with sound. All of her directing projects have wondered about creating what González terms “sound events” in the theatre:

Sound events have to do with putting a sound on stage . . . which is when a sound becomes an actor or has agency in and of itself, not necessarily because it’s communicating meaning but because its pure material nature appears on stage. [The sound] has its own aesthetic appearance, not because of interpretation, but because of its materiality.55

This attraction to sound has occurred in tandem with her exploration of darkness. González feels that her sense of sound is “less domesticated” than her sense of sight.56 As she sees it,

“our sense of sight tends toward analysis and attempts to understand, because we associate seeing with knowing.”57 Sound, on the other hand, provides “more spaces where you can ask yourself questions that don’t have such easy answers, or answers that are so attached to the established order.”58 As a result, she has explored diverse methods of inhibiting audience’s visual perception through darkness in addition to allowing sound to take a protagonist role.

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Inviting Audiences to Perceptual Experiences

Although González had earnestly attempted to offer audiences perceptual experiences in her directing projects, particularly through the use of darkness and exploration of sound, she was often met with reactions that her work was “cryptic and very theoretical.”59 This feedback made her realize that there was some disconnect between audiences and herself, and in Punto ciego, she focused all of her efforts toward bridging this gap. Her practical efforts and her research have taught her that she cannot simply “make a perceptual experience happen,” without first inviting audience members into the experience.60

Before considering how one might invite audiences into a perceptual experience, we must first ascertain more information about audience’s discomfort with darkness and an emphasis on sound over sight. Both anecdotal evidence (“cryptic”) and González’s own thesis research suggest that audience members are likely more uncomfortable with their inability to understand than they are with the experience of darkness and other unorthodox perceptual experiences themselves.61 This possibility has led González to explore how she might assuage this discomfort and make the way into new perceptual experiences easier for audiences.

The perceptual experiences that fascinate González often contain little rational significance. However, she has learned that utilizing a fictional story, which audiences are able to “read,” allows her to “introduce moments of performativity and appearances of the irrational.”62 She explains her reconciliation of her own interests with audience comfort in this way:

It’s about making the audience member believe that things have a logic, but underneath that logic, there are a lot of decisions based on my own pleasure. I like

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this material, and I want it to be there, so how do I make you feel like its appearance is coherent?63

González explored fiction as an invitation into perceptual experiences for the first time in

Punto ciego, and the details of this particular experiment will be explored in the case study.

Conclusion: González’s Conception of Theatre

González’s primary creative method consists in using directing to speculate about alternate realities. When she speculates, she uses all of the theatrical elements at her disposal to explore the limits of her imaginative answers. Since each directing project is a new speculation, each project requires its own idiosyncratic use of all design elements, in addition to the creation of new actor training methods. A core belief that influences González’s directing is that aesthetics are perceptual experiences, and so with each directing project, she is seeking to create new perceptual experiences for audience members, rather than recreate tradition. Because of her own interests and the mainstream’s focus on visuality, González tends to explore the perceptual experiences of darkness and sound. Because audiences are accustomed to aesthetic tradition and often find experimental work uncomfortable, González is currently exploring diverse methods, including the use of fiction, for inviting audiences into perceptual experiences.

Directing Case Study: Punto ciego

The Performance

Punto ciego (Blind Spot) takes a multi-faceted look at blindness and darkness: biological blindness, cultural blind spots, and darkness in the theatre, through the 1880 witch trials on the Chilean island of Chiloé. The production fictionalizes this real-life historical occurrence and interlaces it with metatheatricality. During an initial black out that lasts some

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eight minutes, an audio describer welcomes us into the performance and begins by inviting us to imagine the theatre space as she describes it to us in great detail. Her description slowly morphs into our story: “imagine a body on the beach on the island of Chiloé,” she tells us.

“This body is dead. Poor thing,” laments the audio describer, before we are introduced to other characters as the dead body is discovered by a little girl looking for her lost dog,

Waldo.

When the lights finally do come up, the dead body, which is not actually present on stage, is being examined by a forensic pathologist at the behest of a pushy priest with an agenda. The priest argues that the man must have been killed by dangerous “Indians,” and regardless of the forensic pathologist’s objections, he sends an embellished account of the danger their island faces to the president of Chile. We then meet the president, Aníbal, and his wife, Delfina, just before they receive the letter. Delfina is contemplating a recent portrait of herself that makes her look years younger, thanks to the instructions that she gave the artist.

Up until this point, the story is linear and relatively uncomplicated, but the production’s aesthetic points toward the greater mysteries still to come. Lighting, when it is used, is mostly from a single source, be it a stage light or a flashlight. When the priest imitates his idea of an “Indian,” the light dims even further, as he bangs on an empty metal tray and intones a nonsensical chant in an altogether eerily mystical atmosphere. All actors wear black costumes unspecific to their characters, and props are minimal: chairs, a tape measure, an umbrella. The audio describer, in addition to fulfilling our typical expectations of audio description, also describes that which we do not otherwise see: the priest feels as if he might vomit; Delfina imagines a Bolivian soldier with wings.

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Just as the president’s wife convinces him that these “Indians” aren’t “Indians” at all, but rather witches that threaten the existence of Chile, a stage light crashes to the floor, the set is plunged into darkness, and we hear a cacophony of voices as the characters struggle, confused in the blackout. A voice cries out, “Aníbal!” Another responds, “Delfina, is that you?” Multiple voices converge and respond, “No, I’m the portrait of Delfina, the one that was hanging on the wall.”64

From here on out, the historical story is interwoven with that of the lighting operator who enters, occasionally as himself, and at other times as a character in the story. Highlights include the lighting operator presenting us with an energetic and beautiful description of his blindness, as he practically dances with a foot-long fluorescent light that he holds in his hands. “The darkest color [he] see[s],” he says, “is navy blue.”65 Many scenes later, the lighting operator takes the place of the dead body on the beach, a satisfying materialization of the much-discussed dead body.

We meet a group of accused witches on trial before a prosecutor who “believes in what he sees.”66 Three actors’ faces are almost entirely covered by black plastic bags. The accused speak in unison, with diverse vocal distortions, as they present their case to the prosecutor, aggressively voiced by the audio describer. The already innovative use of the audio describer goes even further in its break with tradition when we later see the audio describer on stage.

Perhaps the single most powerful moment comes when the cast turn lights on the audience, and the audio describer describes us, with our closed eyes and averted faces. The alley configuration of the stage allows for each half of the audience to take turns, observing the other audience members and then being observed, themselves. As the light blinded me, it

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warmed my face, which proved to be an unexpectedly and viscerally moving experience.

This moment crystallized the point of the entire experience for me: it was a deep dive into both the ways in which we “typically” perceive our world and the ways in which we might perceive our world, if we only weren’t afraid to explore a bit.

Figure 55. Moment from Punto ciego. Photograph by Juan Hoppe, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

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Figure 56. Trial scene in Punto ciego. Photograph by Carlos Martínez, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Figure 57. Suspected witches and warlocks on trial in Punto ciego. Still photograph of archival footage. Archival footage by Gonzalo Maruri, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

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Figure 58. A dead body on the beach in Punto ciego. Still photograph of archival footage. Archival footage by Gonzalo Maruri, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

Figure 59. Blinding the audience in Punto ciego. Still photograph of archival footage. Archival footage by Gonzalo Maruri, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

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Approaching Punto ciego

A Speculation about Different Perceptual Communities

Like González’s previous directing projects, Punto ciego again explores the role that darkness might play in the theatre. This time, however, she researched darkness as it relates to individuals who are blind or visually impaired. González’s first contact with a community of blind and visually impaired individuals had occurred a few years before she began research for Punto ciego, during a class in her graduate program in 2014. For a media art project, González placed a webcam and light at the end of a walking stick, and she programmed the webcam so that it associated “different locations of the walking stick with different sounds from a soundscape.”67 When different users walked with the stick through a dark room, each had the experience of a unique combination of sounds, ranging from a forest, and a beach, to the ocean. For this media art installation, González worked with the

Corporación para Ciegos de Providencia (Corporation of the Blind and Visually Impaired of

Providencia*).68

When beginning her research for Punto ciego, González had “the intuition that people who are blind have a lot to teach about their ways of perception.”69 As a first step, before the directing project even truly existed, González interviewed filmmaker María Teresa Larraín,† who was going blind. At the end of the interview, Larraín invited González to blindfold herself and learn to walk with a white cane by walking through the city with her. González accepted, and this experience eventually worked its way into the last scene of Punto ciego:

* Providencia is a commune located in the Santiago metropolitan region of Chile. † María Teresa Larraín (b. 1951) is a Chilean documentary filmmaker who has directed, among other films, the feature-length documentaries El juicio de Pascual Pichún (2007) and Niña sombra (2016), the latter of which is an autobiographical film that follows her journey into blindness. 177

She blindfolded me, and we walked through Providencia. I thought that I was going to die in the attempt . . . and this becomes the final scene. Because the final scene looks back on the moment in which I first walked with María Teresa Larraín, and felt the violence of a city that is truly . . . I mean it’s already violent for everyone who lives here, but to experience it through blindness was phhhhh . . . the play recalls certain experiences of mine as a director in which I practiced, minimally visited, not with arrogance, in reality, the culture of being blind.70

This initial experience served as the beginning of an idea that would become an actor training method utilizing blindfolds.

During the research process for Punto ciego, González and her company organized three different laboratories, the first of which was a lab with ten spots for individuals who are blind or visually impaired and ten spots for company members, all of whom participated in the four-hour laboratory while blindfolded (including restroom breaks). González recalls two key takeaways, the first of which was an exercise. For all of the exercises, González told the participants who were blind or visually impaired that she wasn’t going to teach them theatre, but rather provide instructions so that they could create their own aesthetic. She invited them to pretend that they, a team of individuals who are blind or visually impaired, created the traditions of a theatre school.71 One of the many exercises included one in which the participants had to determine where to situate the audience. Fascinatingly, one of the groups created a horseshoe arrangement for the audience, with the action occurring inside the horseshoe and the audience facing the opposite direction (see figure 60). González shares that this one moment revealed the “absurdity” of theatrical constructs.72

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Figure 60. Diagram of the results of an audience placement exercises during a laboratory for Punto ciego. Diagram created by Mary Allison Joseph, 2020.

This experience also provoked reflections on theatre training:

Theatre schools don’t admit many different bodies . . . I never had a classmate in theatre school who was deaf or blind. So, I started to think about aesthetics, the perceptual experience that we have built as a theatrical aesthetic has been created within this hegemony, so a theatre school that considers perceptual experiences and stage events that don’t respond to this hegemony could perhaps be transformative, a theatre school built from within other perceptual communities, for example . . . what world would open up from a theatrical event if we simply considered . . . other possibilities?73

Further, González sees this experience as an antecedent for the audience and stage arrangement that the company ultimately used for the performance. The configuration became a modified alley, with audience on both sides, so that the performance was directed with two fronts. Action occasionally took place on either side of the main playing area, and the use of black curtains meant that there were “blind spots” for all audience members, regardless of sight ability.74

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Figure 61. Audience configuration for Punto ciego. Diagram created by Mary Allison Joseph, 2020.

Another important takeaway came from participant evaluations. One evaluation by a participant who is blind stated that the only drawback, in his or her opinion, was that

González, herself, hadn’t been blindfolded while leading the workshop. González came to view this feedback as a “pending assignment,” and when the company finally entered rehearsal, she occasionally directed while blindfolded. Once the group reached the point in rehearsal when they could complete runs of the show, González would “watch” entire runs while blindfolded.75

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These two early research experiences, learning to walk with a cane with María Teresa

Larraín and hosting a theatre workshop for individuals who were blind or visually impaired, indicate the speculation that would guide the creative process for Punto ciego: what would a work of theatre be like, if it were created for audience members who are blind or visually impaired? What would it look like if we didn’t prioritize the theatrical experience of seeing audience members over those who are blind or visually impaired? To begin to speculate about possible answers, consulting the expertise of individuals who are blind or visually impaired seems a sensible point of departure.

A Wealth of New Terms and Methods

This speculation led González and her company to develop many concepts and actor training methods during the rehearsal process for Punto ciego. They can be viewed in four distinct categories: (1) enabling exercises and disabling exercises, (2) the culture of blindness, (3) sonic objects, and (4) sonic bodies. Under the first category, the group explored enabling exercises through their work with a new company member who joined after participating in the workshop with individuals who are blind or visually impaired. They also explored disabling exercises for seeing company members, particularly exercises with blindfolds. Under the second category, the group explored the use of expansive audio description, used the “touch as if,” exercise, and developed methods to encourage the

“culture of collision.” Under the third category, the group explored sonic objects, or the sound potential of objects. Under the last category, sonic bodies (the sound potential of the human body), the group’s greatest discovery revolved around the idea of “bodies in vocal transit.” Each of these concepts and training methods will be explored in detail in the following sections. Collectively, these ideas and exercises form the methodological answer to

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the company’s speculation about theatre created for individuals who are blind or visual impaired.76

Enabling Exercises and Disabling Exercises

In disability studies, the personal tragedy model of disability is one that focuses on an individual’s medical impairment or difference in comparison to a norm and perceives individuals with disabilities as victims of personal tragedy who must cope with something negative. This long-held, though slowly diminishing, mainstream societal narrative about disability, is countered by more recent developments in thought about disability, one of which is the social model of disability. The social model asserts that “people are disabled by barriers in society, not by their impairment or difference,”77 and it is this model that resonates with González. Her reflections led her to conclude that “disability” is relative:

And if I think of it this way, I can enable and disable a person, depending on the context . . . For me, enabling, is making possible the creative actions or potential of a person and his or her surroundings. Disabling would be the opposite.78

This understanding of ability and disability as relative concepts served as the foundation for the disabling and enabling training methods developed for Punto ciego.

Disabling exercises

González shares that disabling an actor or actress, “with regard to that which he or she believes to have under control," has interesting consequences, particularly because normally a director “would tend to do the opposite.”79 Blindfold training is disabling for seeing actors in the sense that it takes away an actor's ability to see. The blindfold training, born of the workshop with participants who are blind or visually impaired, evolved into a rehearsal method for Punto ciego. In reflecting on the rehearsal process, González estimates that the cast was blindfolded at least half of the time. It was a difficult process for actors, as

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they often fell and ran into one another, and González shares that this difficulty was the reason for allowing some rehearsal time without blindfolds (“enabling” the actors again). In spite of the difficulties, González asserts that the blindfold training had tremendous value, not only because it forced seeing actors out of the hegemony to which they are accustomed, but it also served to connect them with their “sonic presence, [and their] tactile and sonic connection with objects.”80 For all participants, "it was an exploration of the unknown.”81

Enabling exercises

In addition to disabling and enabling seeing actors, González also explored enabling actors who are blind or visually impaired. As a result of the workshop with individuals who are blind or visually impaired, the company welcomed a new cast member, Lorenzo Morales.

González notes that disabling exercises in which seeing actors were blindfolded was enabling for Morales because it leveled the playing field. She notes that it was "really beautiful because Lorenzo was the most agile of the company when in darkness. Everyone else was very clumsy, and this was a way of disabling them.”82

González also developed other enabling techniques while working with Morales on

Punto ciego. One technique involved utilizing tactile markers so that Morales could “orient himself, with regard to staging, in the space.”83 A first discovery was that a slightly raised stage provided a tactile indicator that allowed Morales to differentiate playing space from off-stage space. The group also made small markers out of carpet that indicated locations and directions within the stage including, for example, the center, the corners, or a diagonal.

González concludes that

We didn’t have to make huge scenographic transformations so that a person who couldn’t see would be able to stand right in the center, and especially in this work that

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even had two fronts, [so that] he would be able to know if he was facing the correct front or not that we had designed for a particular moment.84

Morales and González created enabling techniques that could easily be replicated throughout the theatre industry.

Morales also served as the company’s lighting technician for the production of Punto ciego. He manually operated lights during every performance, which required using a ladder to adjust lights from an overhead lighting grid. So that Morales could light the show,

González and he developed another enabling technique, a method for operating and directing the lights based on sound. At first, González and Morales worked together without the rest of the company, with González utilizing her voice as a guide for Morales to follow with a light.

As he moved the light and followed her voice, González gave Morales feedback so that he could fine tune his movements. After he had refined his technique, they integrated the rest of the company so that Morales could apply his lighting technique to the performance. González asserts that this was not only an important discovery because they learned that sound-guided lighting, rather than sight-guided lighting, is an effective lighting technique, but it was also significant because, as she puts it: “it’s beautiful that what gets lit is not necessarily what a seeing person would light, in general focusing on faces; at times the light reaches other regions of the body.”85

Conclusion

These enabling and disabling exercises, born of the idea of the relativity of ability, directly responds to the group’s speculation about theatre for individuals who are blind or visually impaired by doing away with the hierarchical separation between blind and seeing individuals. In making theatre with audience members who are blind or visually impaired in

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mind, it certainly makes sense to have members of this community present in the cast.

Otherwise, devoid of any lived expertise, a company would likely only engage in a misguided attempt to create theatre for a community that it does not understand and perpetuate the hierarchical divisions between seeing and blind.

Morales’s presence in the company meant that the company speculated not only about theatre made for individuals who are blind but also about theatre made by individuals who are blind. His participation revealed the many “blind spots of its theatre practice”86 and led directly to the development of enabling exercises as diverse as tactile markers for spatial orientation in staging to sound-based lighting operation. In speculating about theatre for individuals who are blind or visually impaired, the company had to do away with the hierarchical separation between blind and seeing, not only in how they thought about audience members, but also in how they understood their company, as well. Disabling exercises, particularly blindfold training, was one way to chip away at this hierarchy, but further, these training methods allowed seeing actors to expand their perceptual relationships with the world and grow their understanding of themselves as perceptual and perceivable beings beyond their senses of sight.

The Culture of Blindness: Collision Culture

Within their exploration of the culture of blindness, the group explored what they came to call “collision culture.”87 As González explains, in a situation of blindness, one has to “bump into things in order to know that they are there.”88 In González’s experience, much of actor training involves learning to move gracefully through space, and it certainly doesn’t involve running into things (which isn’t the same as pretending to run into something, or

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controlling one’s collision with something).89 Since they were exploring blindness, González needed something very different from actors:

In Punto ciego, I needed the cast to learn to collide with things, to collide with the tables, to bump into the walls, to enter the world with their bodies, not with their sight. Because sight allows us to predict events . . . but without sight, you can’t help but collide with the world.90

For this reason, González began to orchestrate collisions. And so that seeing actors would be able to resist the ability to avoid or foresee collisions, González applied blindfolds to these exercises, as well. Essentially, training in collision culture involves asking actors to gradually increase their speed until they are running through space while blindfolded. This builds upon the disabling exercise of blindfold training by increasing difficulty for seeing actors.

As I see it, this idea of collision culture responds to the group’s speculation in two key ways. First, imagining possible answers to the overarching speculative question (what might a work of theatre look like if it were made for individuals who are blind?) involves asking smaller questions, like, how do individuals who are blind experience the world? How do they receive perceptual feedback from their environment? One of the ways, as the group found, is collision. In order to further the cast members’ exploration of the culture of blindness, González developed a training method to counter both their acting training and their day-to-day perceptual experiences of the world (after all, we don’t try to run into things in our everyday life). For this, seeing actors had to resist the tendency to control their encounters with their environment and learn to collide with the world.

Second, this training not only further enriched seeing cast members’ perceptual experiences of the world, but it also led to the creation of more and atypical sounds on stage.

As a result, this training in collision culture has aesthetic, or perceptual, consequences for the

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audience, as well. In centering the theatrical experience on audience members who are blind or visually impaired, the company needed to deprioritize the visuality of the audience’s aesthetic experience and enrich the sonic experience of the audience. In the process of meeting the unique perceptual needs of audience members who are blind or visually impaired, the company created a new perceptual, or aesthetic, language for all audience members, seeing or blind. In this creation of a new theatrical language, we see another of

González’s core values: that of creating perceptual experiences.

The Culture of Blindness: the “Touch as if” Exercise

González and her company re-utilized an actor training method first developed during the rehearsal process for Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo (Telepathy, Nostalgia for the

Body). The company refers to the exercise as “touch as if,” and it grew from the group’s reading of an essay on the human sense of touch. In Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo, the group was speculating about a “not-so-distant future in which bodies would only be able to connect with one another through the mind, or virtual actions.”91 For this reason, they explored both the body and the senses, in addition to the speculative absence of them: “not touching one another, not smelling, not tasting.”92 This particular essay enumerated various forms of touch so as to amplify the possibilities of touch, rather than limit them, and it served as a foundation for the exploration of the sense of touch in the “touch as if” exercise. As an example, González might guide actors in this way: “touch as if this other body were a landscape. Touch in order to lose yourself in the landscape. Touch gracefully. Touch as if this other body were yourself.”93 Once they began developing this exercise, they witnessed

“the skin organ become more present, and more versatile, as an organ that touches.”94 It

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made sense to González to utilize this same actor training method in Punto ciego because of the role of the sense of touch within the culture of blindness.

I didn’t ever want that the bodies of the actors, when interacting with darkness, to act as if they were touching, but rather I wanted them to touch truthfully and obtain information from that which they touched, as if they were seeing it.95

And here again, just like in the collision culture exercises, we see González encouraging seeing cast members to engage in perceptual experiences that are unusual to them. It also seems helpful preparation for a performance that will have frequent blackouts, in which neither cast nor any audience member will be able to see.

The Culture of Blindness: Expansive Audio Description

The company’s use of audio description in Punto ciego began as an internal practice during a trip to the island of Chiloé. González had applied for and was awarded funding from the Santiago a Mil International Theatre Festival* for the production, and at a certain point, it became clear that the best use of the funding was a company trip to Chiloé. While more will be shared about the nature of the trip in a later section, it is mentioned here due to its relationship with audio description. As the company visited different places on the island, the seeing members of the group would audio describe the sights to Morales. As an example, when they visited a church, González might say,

Lorenzo, we’ve just entered a church. The church is made completely of wood. On the floor, there is a carpet made of sheep’s wool. The sheep’s wool is white. To your left, there are four stained-glass windows.96

* See footnote p. 100. 188

As González puts it, this continuous audio description was “the atmosphere of the entire trip.”97 What began as an internal working method would become an integral technology utilized in the final production.

A new conceptualization of audio description

Once the company decided that Punto ciego would be designed with blind or visually impaired audiences in mind, they immediately decided that audio description would be a part of the production. Audio description is typically understood as a kind of “verbal translation of a visible event” utilized to render experiences, designed with seeing individuals in mind, accessible to individuals who are blind or visually impaired.98 González and her team, however, subverted this traditional understanding of audio description by designing audio description for both seeing audience members and those who are blind or visually impaired.

To accomplish this, they had to be sure that "seeing audience members wouldn’t feel that what they were seeing was ‘repeated’ by the audio describer.”99 To accomplish this, they engaged in three different techniques: (1) “integrat[ing] the audio description into the dramaturgy of the play,” (2) utilizing audio description that narrated the invisible, in addition to the visible, and (3) complicating the assumption that the audio describer would necessarily be objective.100 As a result, they not only subverted the traditional “accessibility” purpose of audio description, but they also theatricalized it, rendering audio description a fascinating artistic tool.

From the first moments of the production, there are clear indicators that the use of audio description in the performance will depart from tradition. During the initial eight- minute blackout, we hear the audio describer's voice, and rather than tell us what we are seeing, she asks us to imagine what we are unable to see in the blackout. Further, rather than

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launching immediately into the story, the initial audio description is metatheatrical, as she describes the location of the performance, the Teatro del Puente (Bridge Theatre) performance space, which is, in fact, located on a bridge:

Imagine we are in a theatre built on a bridge. Imagine that this bridge connects two parts of the country’s capitol. Imagine that this country is Chile, and that the river that flows beneath our feet is called the Mapuche River, which has now been deformed into the word Mapocho. The theatre is full to the very last seat.101

The audio describer gradually incorporates the story, though still requiring audience members to utilize their imaginations, as the stage is still in a blackout:

A long beam of light cuts across the surface of the stage. But this light doesn’t illuminate the pipes under the floor, nor the cables above our heads. Imagine that this beam of light touches the body of an approximately seventy-year- old man, who is lying on the floor, while the beam of light touches him.102

Then, just like a narrator or storyteller, but unlike a traditional audio describer, she reveals she has an opinion about the story she is describing. As she reveals that the body is dead, she acts with emotion of someone who cares, rather than describes,

Poor thing! He’s fading! Rotting!103

Then as a final introductory indicator that this production’s use of audio description will be anything but traditional, the audio describer voices a little girl, on the beach where the dead body lies, who is frantically screaming for her lost dog. The audio describer distorts her voice as she screams in a raspy, fading whisper: “Waldo, Waldo, Waldo, where are you?”104

Once other characters are integrated and the lights are up, the audio describer does engage in some objective description and narration, as when she says, “The actor has changed his posture . . . His knees are bent, his arms dangle. His gaze is hard, sad, and

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defiant.”105 However, she continues, quite frequently, to describe that which is not there, as when the priest and a parish member approach a crucifix, which is not actually present, and she describes,

PRIEST The Indian turned around, and he dared to look at this Christ here before you.

AUDIO DESCRIBER He points toward the sculpture of a half-naked white man who has been crucified.106

When the priest and the parishioner approach the statue, however, the priest points toward an overhead light which gradually intensifies until the pair are standing in the “light” of the crucifix (see figure 62). On this and other occasions, the production deftly utilizes audio description to expand the stage beyond what is physically present in the design. The audio describer describes the forensic pathologist’s costume as “typical of 1800,” and those of the president, who wears a “period suit with a presidential sash” and his wife, who wears a high- necked, long-sleeved dress, yet all cast members wear nearly identical, non-identifying black costumes.107 By describing that which is not physically present, the production further subverts traditional audio description by stoking the imagination of all audience members, regardless of sight ability.

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Figure 62. Priest and parishioner observe the crucifix. Archival footage by Gonzalo Maruri, 2019. Courtesy of Ignacia González.

By integrating the audio description into the play text, the audio description grows beyond an accessibility tool and even a theatrical tool by becoming a literary element that one can analyze within the text itself. The audio describer’s lines, just like any other character’s lines, reinforce the themes of the work, particularly the ideas of what it means to see and all the biases that may be involved in one’s idea of seeing. For example, the audio describer in one moment asks audience members to imagine Chile itself:

Imagine a State of Chile. What shape is it? Imagine a beam of light touching a State of Chile. What’s it like? Do you see it? What shape is it? Imagine a beam of lighting touching a State of Chile.108

It is quite possible that the imaginary versions of Chile that audience members conjure up in their minds may exclude the indigenous peoples of Chile that figure so prominently in the 192

play. As another example of this same bias, the audio describer describes an actress’s mental process for finding an image of a machi, a traditional healer and religious leader in Mapuche* culture:

The actress picks up a tray that has been left on the floor, closes her eyes, and tries to imagine a machi. She can’t. She realizes that she’s actually never seen a machi in person. She wonders, why have I never seen a machi in person? She remembers a YouTube video from when they were doing research for the play . . . Everything blends together in her imagination.109

Further and perhaps most significantly, the audio describer reveals that she may have a few biases herself, when she interjects in a conversation about witches:

DELFINA You can’t declare war on a machix.† It’s not strategic. (Pause) But if you think of a witch, the thing completely changes. Let’s see, Aníbal, imagine a witch . . . what do you see?

AUDIO DESCRIBER Delfina places her hands on Aníbal’s shoulders.

ANÍBAL I imagine a person, hunched over, with hair that’s long and…

AUDIO DESCRIBER Black…

ANÍBAL (Both Aníbal and Delfina look up.) . . . black . . . 110

The production brilliantly upsets audience members’ expectations about the objectivity of the audio describer, and the effect is similar to a a reader’s discovery that a novel’s narrator is unreliable. This choice furthers the play’s exploration of human bias by questioning whether a complete lack of bias, objectivity, is even possible.

* The Mapuche are an indigenous people of southern Chile. † The character Delfina repeatedly mispronounces “machi” as “machix.” 193

The production ingeniously utilizes the audio describer to play a district attorney character who publicly interrogates accused witches. The use of the audio describer’s disembodied overhead voice reinforces the power dynamic between the district attorney and the accused. The accused interact with the district attorney just as if she were physically present, interrupting her, and the whole interaction builds to a “confession." The accused frustrate the district attorney by eluding his questions by answering with popular sayings:

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Will you refuse to cooperate with the justice system?

3 NEIGHBOR WOMEN* Faking insanity is often sane.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Answer me. Are you a warlock?

CHORUS† No.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY But you know of them . . . The Council of the Indigenous Race, the Majority, the Honorable Province . . . Does that sound familiar?

CHORUS Yes, it sounds familiar.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY And why does it sound familiar?

CHORUS For what one needs to see, one eye is plenty. Any more brings punishment.

* 3 Neighbor Women (3 Vecinas) indicates a high-pitched vocal identity, in which the two actors use falsetto in order to match the actress’s pitch. The use of “vecinas” to indicate this vocal identity in the text serves to guide the imagination of the actors and actress into the same pitch. The 3 Vecinas vocal identity also involves fast- paced speaking. † Chorus (Coro) indicates the use of a more neutral vocal identity, which is low-pitched, clearly enunciated, and slow-paced with pauses. The idea of using “coro” to indicate this vocal identity arose to guide the actors away from vocal identities that have the Chilote accent (the accent of Chiloé). In this sense, this vocal identity presents a different world, one that doesn’t belong to the fictional story about Chiloé but rather to the fiction and aesthetic of Punto ciego. 194

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Can you answer the question that is asked?

COÑUECAR* Justice is a grievance when not administered by the wise.

CHORUS Let’s see if she gets it.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Do you know exactly where the Quicaví cave is?

3 PERSONAL OPINIONS† I don’t know where the cave is. I’ve never seen it.

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Do not lie, sir. You are under ooooath.

COÑUECAR A rooster that doesn’t crow has something in his throat . . .

CHORUS I’m not lying to you.

SEER In order to recognize a witch, one must first throw a handful of bran into the embers. If anyone nearby sneezes, it’s because she’s a witch . . . If you’re not baptized, it’s because you’re a witch . . . If you don’t talk much, it’s because you’re a witch . . . If you’re ugly or deformed and you wear black clothing, you’re a witch.

CHORUS That’s why they’re so dangerous. They’re savage, they can’t be domesticated. That’s why they’re so dangerous. They’re savage, they can’t be domesticated. (Aunt Tuca murmer)‡

* Coñuecar refers to Mateo Coñuecar, a Chilote farmer and accused warlock brought to court during the witch trials of Chiloé. † 3 Personal Opinions refers to the idea that in this moment, the actors try not to match vocal identities, but rather try to create dissimilar vocal identities. ‡ Aunt Tuca murmer, rather than referring to a character, refers to a series of unintelligible sounds coupled with a particular movement pattern. In this moment, the three actors all speak at the same time, moving their tongues very quickly, and each with a hand on his or her chest. The intent is not intelligibility, but rather the construction of a body of sound that changes the scene’s sonic rhythm. González finds that creating concise names for combinations of sounds and movements is useful when creating the sound and movement scores of the work. 195

AUDIO DESCRIBER (taking on the tone of the scene) Who murdered Andrés Netor!

3 NEIGHBOR WOMEN Oh sure, the cows are in the potatoes!*

AUDIO DESCRIBER If you don’t help me, you will all be arrested.

3 NEIGHBOR WOMEN Here we each slaughter our own cattle.

CHORUS I know who did it. It was Santiago Raín.

3 NEIGHBOR WOMEN Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!† (singing) Jueeeeee111

Not only does this exchange brilliantly exploit the traditional location of the audio describer

(hidden from view with a voice often coming from overhead speakers), but it also sets up the end of the play, which will further upset the traditional rules of audio description.

Shortly after the district attorney manages to secure the name of the supposedly guilty party (Santiago Raín), Raín’s accuser points at the lighting operator, seated on one corner of the stage. The audio describer, still in her role of district attorney, attempts to continue the interrogation, but the lighting designer turns the tables by seemingly going off script and forcing the audio describer to improvise. The exchange brings the production back into metatheatre and ultimately, brings the audio describer out of her hiding place and onto the stage:

* Popular saying in rural southern Chile used to communicate doubt over an unfounded assertion. † While these last two lines are faithful to the meaning of the Spanish-language original, they do not convey the rhyme scheme of the original. The Spanish-language original uses rhyme throughout this entire exchange, and the delivery of the accused is a haunting, vocally distorted sing-song. In Spanish, the last two lines are CORO Yo lo sé. Santiago Raín fue. 3 VECINAS Jesú, María, y José. (cantando) jueee “Jue” is an expression used in Southern Chile, and it is the abbreviation of “Jesús, María, y José.” 196

DISTRICT ATTORNEY You there! Tell me your name.

MORALES Me?

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Yes, you.

MORALES My name is Lorenzo Morales. Why do you ask?

DISTRICT ATTORNEY Are you a warlock?

MORALES A warlock? No, I’m the lighting operator . . . Warlock? And who are you?

AUDIO DESCRIBER Me? I’m the audio describer . . .

MORALES And what are you doing here?

AUDIO DESCRIBER Well, they invited me to describe . . . I tell you all . . . I give descriptions of . . . I tell you what we see . . .

MORALES Lights!112

At this point, cast members turn the lights on the audience members, and they guide them in a slow survey across the entire length of both audience seating areas. The audio describer then improvises a description of what is lit: the audience, itself. This is another fascinating break with tradition in which the audio describer describes the audience rather than the stage.

That said, this is perhaps such a moving experience for audience members because the sense is that they are now on stage, rather than in the audience. On one occasion, the audio describer described the audience members in this way:

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Now imagine . . . that . . . two beams of light move from one side of the space to the other. They run into bodies, seated bodies… young people, with their eyes closed. Living bodies. Or maybe, it’s a photograph, a family, a group of friends. Now the two beams of light turn toward the other side where they illuminate more bodies who are seated, in chairs, on bleachers, (gasps)!113

After the audio describer gasps, presumably because the light has reached her normally hidden corner of the theatre, she makes the decision to appear and describe herself, further upending the norms associated with whom or what is to be described. This change is reinforced in the text by swapping “Audio Describer” for the actress’s name:

BREIER* Imagine that this beam of light touches a body in the bleachers. It’s me, lit by this beam of light. I stoop over. Some people have turned around. They look at me firmly, but they don’t see me. This body that is me doesn’t want to be lit. I’m cold . . . Can you turn off the lights? I tell them, but they don’t do it.114

Next, the production makes the exciting choice to transfer the task of audio description to other cast members, who proceed to describe the audio describer:

ACTOR 1 The audio describer steps forward, stepping into the beam of light. She has moved her hands up to her face. She has bent her knees . . . Imagine that this beam of light hit her and threw her to the ground . . . She seems to be thin and white. She has brown hair.

ACTOR 2 Black

ACTOR 3 Dark brown

ACTOR 1 Her hair covers her whole face. She’s disoriented. She’s afraid: she’s afraid of images and sounds. She crawls on all fours as if she were reading the floor with her hands. Her gaze is lost.

PARISHIONER

* Heidrun Breier is a Romanian-German actress and director, based in Chile for more than twenty years, who played the role of the audio describer in some of the group’s productions. Breier directed Bajo hielo (2009), La irreflexión de las cosas vivas (2016) and Demasiado cortas las piernas (2018). 198

She is pensive. If they would turn off the lights, she thinks, I would feel my body again.

AUDIO DESCRIBER If they would turn off the lights I . . .

ACTOR 1 Blackout. 115

Finally, the audio describer, she whom we expect to “see” everything, requires Morales’s help to move about the stage in the darkness. This final upending completes the production’s total subversion of traditional expectations of audio description.

Methods for developing the audio description text

In order to render audio description such a compelling literary and theatrical tool, while including moments of audio description that make the performance coherent for audience members who are blind or visually impaired, González and Morales wrote the audio description together. Once the flow of the performance was mostly developed, González and

Morales had a twofold strategy for drafting and testing the effectiveness of the audio description. González and Morales would review each scene, and Morales would share whether or not he felt the need for any additional explanation. They would insert new audio description text based on Morales’s suggestions. Occasionally, Morales might signal a confusing moment, and they would realize that the particular moment was intentionally confusing for all audience members, as when the light falls from the overhead grid. As

González puts it, this made them realize that “there are some moments in which the audio description acts as a guide for comprehension, but there are moments in which it purposely does not clarify because we don’t want to clarify, we want to obscure.”116 González, for her

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part, would listen to whole runs while blindfolded so that she could experience the audio description in its entirety.

Shifting from inclusion to expansion

González asserts that,

By subverting and theatricalizing the tool of audio description, it ceased to act as an ‘inclusive’ technology for individuals who are blind or visually impaired to access the seeing experience, and it also served to allow seeing individuals to approach the experience of the blind and visually impaired; and setting aside these binaries, it allowed the entire community of audience members to ask themselves questions about themes that go beyond the problem of ‘seeing or not seeing.’117

As González sees it, the company utilized the accessibility tool of audio description, which normally operates in a hierarchical view of society (so that blind and visually impaired individuals can access seeing culture and society), and they divorced it from the hierarchy that spawned it. Rather than hierarchize its audience members, the company used audio description in a way that would unite the diverse communities represented in the audience in a holistic artistic experience. For González, this means that the company did not use audio description in Punto ciego as an “inclusive technology, but rather an expansive one."118 And this has societal ramifications in addition to artistic and literary ones: rather than striving to include a particular group within society, we should expand our understanding of society itself.

Audio description as a wealth of possibilities

The development of expansive audio description is yet another result of the company’s guiding speculation. Since the group was creating a work of theatre with blind and visually impaired audience members in mind, the group would deprioritize a visual aesthetic, which would necessarily reduce the need for the typical description of visual

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occurrences. This became fertile ground for speculating about audio description: what if it were developed with seeing audience members in mind, too? What creative possibilities does audio description offer? In setting aside tradition, González and her company discovered exhilarating possibilities: audio description as a dramaturgical tool, audio description as a literary tool, non-objective audio description, audio description of the invisible, audio description of the audience, audio description of the audio describer, audio describers that play other characters, and audio describers that appear, both visually and through sound, on stage. Here again, the company relied on Morales’s expertise as Morales partnered with

González in the writing of the audio description. Together, they developed audio description that united both seeing and blind or visually impaired audience members in a thrilling theatrical experience.

Sonic Objects

The cast and creatives held another laboratory as part of their exploratory process for

Punto ciego, and this lab focused on what González calls “sonic objects,” or generating different sounds with objects.119 Evidence of this exploration is ever-present throughout the performance, even though the production utilized spare props: a tape measure, an umbrella, a rustic metal tray, black plastic bags, and chairs. As minimal as these props are, audience members can’t help but hear them. We “hear” the sound of waves crashing on a beach as a metal tray, an umbrella, and a tape measure (though these are only minimally seen given the almost complete absence of light) are rhythmically brushed across the floor. The umbrella occasionally flaps open, suggesting wind or a brake in the wave.

There is a particularly playful moment in which we hear “thunder” as the audio describer describes the storm to us:

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The image fades to black. A windy rainstorm begins. Thunder, Rumblings, Thunder, a Bang, a Roar. The wind is nearly shattering the parish church windows. It’s cold. Flies hover over the still flesh of the cadaver.120

The audio describer calls “lights,” and as the lights quickly come up, we continue to “hear” the “thunder” sound, as a cast member shakes an extended tape measure, and we discover that we have been duped:

AUDIO DESCRIBER Lights. On stage is a forensic pathologist wearing attire typical of 1800. He shakes a tape measure. The priest observes him from a distance. He covers his nose and mouth with his hand.

FORENSIC PATHOLOGIST 68 . . .

AUDIO DESCRIBER He measures the length of the cadaver’s arms.121

Now, while we audience members may not have thought that the sound of thunder we heard was “real” thunder, our imaginations allowed us to combine the suggestion of a storm with the available noise and produce the “image” of thunder in our minds.*

Other times objects are used to make sounds that aren’t necessarily intended to suggest another sound, but rather add to atmosphere. As the performance moves into the witch trial scene, the actors, with their heads covered in black plastic bags, make choking sounds and grate the metal legs of chairs against the floor as they take position. The effect is chilling, as the audio describer guides us into the next scene by gradually giving us more information:

Imagine a statement. Imagine a real statement given by diverse bodies in the context of a Trial.

* For a fascinating exploration of how perceptual errors interact with the production of mental images, see chapter 2 (El espectador: Percepción visual y auditiva en oscuridad) of González’s thesis, Percibir en la oscuridad: Alteraciones de la noción de cuerpo, espacio y tiempo escénico en la percepción auditiva y visual (2015). 202

Imagine a real statement given by diverse bodies in the context of a Trial, after they have been threatened by the district attorney or tortured to force their confessions. Ancud, March 23, 1880. A court of law.122

This trial scene contains another discovery from the group’s laboratory in sonic objects. In this same laboratory, the company spent time creating Foley “soundscapes of Chiloé.”123

They played with various objects, many of which were effectively trash, including plastic bags. These were used to create bird and wind sounds and so became a part of the performance. When the company began the final structuring of the work, they realized that these same bags used to create Foley would make excellent blindfolds for the cast in performance. While the previous blindfold training involved sleep masks, they thought that blinding the actors with plastic bags could make some of the training manifest in the performance.124

Like training in collision culture, an exploration of sonic objects meant that cast members would be able to increase their ability to connect with the audience through sound, and in this way, it responds to the group’s need to prioritize sound over visuality on stage in its overall speculation. Fascinatingly, the company did this with only a few props and carefully created sound effects, as cast members created all of the production’s Foley with a handful of objects. Here again, the company met the perceptual needs of audience members who are blind or visually impaired while also creating a unique perceptual experience for all audience members.

Sonic Bodies and Bodies in Vocal Transit

In González’s research for her thesis, she had asked a group of individuals who are blind or visually impaired,

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‘How is it possible to follow the action of a body on stage auditorily, if this [action] was created primarily with visual continuity in mind?’ To [her] surprise, they responded that there was no discontinuity in their experience of the bodies’ presence. Even if actors weren’t concerned with maintaining a sound presence, the sounds that they made kept them present, inseparable from their physical presence on stage.125

What would a work of theatre look like, then, if actors invested in maintaining a sound presence and connection with the audience? This mini-speculation led the creatives to a third workshop that involved exploring what González terms “sonic bodies.”

If in exploring sonic objects, the cast explored the sound potential of objects, in this exploration the cast explored the sound potential of their own bodies. The greatest discovery made in this workshop, which González would further develop in Ella y los cerdos (She and the Pigs), was what she calls “bodies in vocal transit” or “trans bodies,” as an abbreviation:

A body in vocal transit . . . is a body through which many voices pass, and in a way, it never completely identifies with any [one voice]. It’s . . . one same body through which many vocal identities can circulate.126

Since in Punto ciego actors were not concerned with maintaining visual continuity of identity, character, or body, they were free to explore numerous vocal “bodies.” This technique is particularly prominent in the trial scene. Three actors come together in a chorus of defendants, and they struggle, cough, and gasp their way out of the plastic bags enough to reveal their mouths and noses and breathe shallow sighs of relief as they recover. Then, they explode in rapid-fire, affected, and unintelligible babble of different pitches. The district attorney yells at them to be quiet, and they slump back in their chairs into noticeable and uneasy breathing.

After the audio describer announces the objective of the trial, the defendants burst forward as they introduce themselves to the court, with each actor representing more than

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one defendant and creating a unique vocal identity for each. The effect is such that we “see” many more defendants than are actually present in body:

ACTOR 2 My name is Eliseo Carillanca. I am 49 years old. I was born in Ancud.

ACTOR 3 My name is Héctor Cañicura. I am 57 years old. I was born in Achao.

ACTOR 1 My name is Rómulo Ñancucheo. I am 63 years old. I was born in Quetalmahue.

ACTOR 2 My name is María Carrasco. I am 45 years old. I was born in Manao.

ACTOR 1 My name is Micaela González. I am 72 years old. I was born in Curaco de Vélez.127

The actors move from one distorted vocal identity to the next as they float into different postures on their chairs: there is a distinctly nasal voice, a nearly voiceless whisper, and a raspy, hollow voice, among others.

As the trial progresses, occasionally one defendant will begin an answer, and the others will join in chorus to complete the sentence. In addition to varying their vocal pitches, the actors often distort the normal rhythm of speech or exaggerate expected intonations. We are constantly surprised by the changes, as when one actor describes what the witches supposedly do, and the two others join in on “potatoes” and “weather” by singing these words:

They perform secret rites. They are a political organization that controls such common matters as the harvest of potatoes, in addition to impossible matters like the weather.128

Collectively, these techniques make for a haunting judgement scene, as audience members get the sense that we have seen only some of the horrors of the witch trial.

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The company’s exploration of their sonic bodies seems to me another response to a smaller speculation (what if we invested in a sound connection with the audience rather than with a visual one?) within the overall speculation. Free from the need to maintain visual continuity of identity, actors explored numerous vocal possibilities through the idea of

“bodies in vocal transit.” This technique was particularly effective in the witch trial scene in which we had the sensation that many more individuals were on trial than were visually present on stage. In taking its speculation to its limits, the company developed new concepts and new training methods that resulted in both a unique sound aesthetic and a unique acting aesthetic, both of which had perceptual ramifications for all audience members.

Invitations through Fiction

At a certain point in the process, company members began to think that they needed a story to frame their aesthetic explorations for the audience. Around this same time, the composer of Punto ciego invited González to a launch ceremony for a book on the witch trial of Chiloé in 1880. Although González attended out of personal interest, as she was born in

Chiloé, she was captivated by “the cultural blindness of the Chilean state.”129 She also found the Mapuche* people’s beliefs about the visible and invisible to be particularly relevant:

I found the different paradigms with regard to the visible and the invisible mind- blowing . . . for the Mapuche people, the invisible is not so. Deep down there isn’t this hierarchy that what you don’t see isn’t there. There are things that you don’t see, and they are there.130

The group as a whole felt that it made sense to find an idea that would complement biological blindness, because, as González puts it, that was

exactly what we were trying to say . . . that biological blindness isn’t what we call blindness. Here what we mean by blindness is cultural obstacles. And so, the Chiloé

* See footnote p. 193. 206

witch trial was a beautiful example of a cultural obstacle, and obviously still very relevant because the government hasn’t changed very much in terms of its interactions with the indigenous. So, to me it seemed just and necessary to do it.131

González, for her part, also found that she is becoming increasingly interested in talking about her birthplace.

Around the same time, González received funding for the production from Santiago a

Mil,* and she decided that the best use of the funding was a ten-day company retreat to

Chiloé. Although González, herself, is from Chiloé, she thought it important for the entire company to visit the area, as a way to avoid “colonization” of the theme.132 During the trip, they rented a car and made a map, which they called something like “the witchcraft road map,” and they visited all the places they had read about.133 In their fictionalization of this historical event, the company took many liberties. Official history does, in fact, say that there were people who practiced black magic. Further, it wasn’t the national government of Chile that tried to get rid of the witchcraft, but rather locals in Chiloé. González, however, doesn’t feel she needs to create “an objective truth,” and further, it’s her opinion that the witch trial very likely was, in fact, “a political maneuver.”134

When it came time to merge the newly-found story with the work they had already been developing, González began the dramaturgical process by choosing the richest discoveries that had resulted from the group’s research. She sorted these until she figured out the right order, and an example of her thought process would be something like this:

The improvisation from the second month of rehearsal, where we got the idea that they would all put plastic bags on their head, OK, that goes here, but . . . so that it doesn’t appear out of nowhere, the audio describer must have previously attempted to describe a bag, and it’s precisely this bag that doesn’t allow her to describe it objectively. And later this same element transforms into exactly the element that

* See footnote p. 100. 207

blocks the actors’ sight, and this will be the moment in the play in which the actors no longer have a visual identity, but rather only vocal identities.135

After she understood the order of the aesthetic events they had created, they created “the fabric” of the story, "that would allow one material [discovery] to move to the next.”136 The company didn’t just use a story to invite audience members in, however, they also strategically placed aesthetic experiences.

As González understands the structure of the work, the moment when the light falls from the grid is a turning point in the show:

Before that we work within the visual paradigm . . . the actors act as if they were part of the paradigm that was taught to them in school, they see one another . . . After the light falls, it’s the culture of blindness. Meaning, the actors collide, the actors don’t have visual identities, they only have sonic identities . . . And so I decided, in this moment, the performance needs to turn upside down for the audience, too, so after the light falls, the performance is acted toward the other front.137

And this is exactly what is so intelligent about González’s use of story to invite audience members into new perceptual experiences. She paves the way with more traditional aesthetics, plot, and characters, so that once the light falls, audience members feel that they can follow what happens because they already have a foundation of understanding.

Additionally, the aesthetic shift feels organic, as the production’s initial lengthy black out (in which the audio describer describes the theatrical space and eases the audience into the story) remains, subconsciously, in the audience’s memory. The audience is certainly surprised by the aesthetic shift begun by the falling light, but the results of the shift continue to feel like they belong in the already-established aesthetic language of the work. Lastly, since the story revolves around the idea of witchcraft, the darkness and accompanying aesthetic innovations seem to make thematic sense to the audience.

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In addition, since a sense of metatheatricality had already been established by describing the theatre space, etc., the production is able to introduce the lighting operator supposedly “responsible” for the fallen light and again allow the audience member to feel “I understand.”138 Rather than an awkward or forced metatheatrical moment, however, the company renders this moment agile and believable because they allow the audio describer to seem to be thrown off guard. Further, even after the light falls from the grid, there is a continuity of story as the same historical story, in which we audience members were already invested, continues. We accept the second story, a metatheatrical one about the lighting operator and the audio describer, which also resonates with the theme of blindness. In this way, the second story about a lighting operator who is blind and audio describer who fears the light, completes a triad of blindness-related themes: the biological blindness of the lighting operator, cultural blindness in the witch trial of Chiloé, and aesthetic “blindness” in the midst of darkness in which actors and audience do not see.139

The pinnacle of the new aesthetic experience for the audience comes at the end of the work in a moment that González describes as a “sound installation.”140 The final moments of the show occur during a three-and-a-half-minute blackout. This blackout allows the audio describer, unaccustomed to being on stage, to feel comfortable once again, in the sense that she is no longer seen by the audience. However, she cannot find her way through the darkness. Morales, the lighting operator, helps the audio describer move about the stage by teaching her to walk with a white cane, the scene that is reminiscent of González’s experience walking with María Teresa Larraín. As he teaches her, we hear the continued sound of multiple canes striking the floor rhythmically:

LIGHTING OPERATOR

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As you walk forward, you make an arch from left to right. You know the world through caresses, through touch, through echoes, musically. We will use this wall to guide ourselves. Here you stop because there is a motorcycle in the middle of the sidewalk.141

The voices seem to move farther away, and the sounds of the city wash over us and the voices of the lighting operator and audio describer:

LIGHTING OPERATOR Careful, there’s a traffic light, we have to run a little. Let’s go, let’s continue. We have to tap harder so that people will hear us, if not, they’ll carry us with them. When they are looking at their cell phones, they don’t see us, and they run right into us. At the corner, we stop, and once we no longer hear any cars from this direction, we can continue.142

Here, we hear the lighting operator and the audio describer wait at the intersection, and there is about a minute and a half without dialogue as city sounds take over. Eventually, the city sounds fade, and Morales utters the last words of the play, "Now! Let’s cross!"143

This first attempt at inviting audiences into new perceptual experiences through the use of fiction is incredibly innovative and nuanced. First and foremost, we should note that rather than fit the aesthetic explorations into a story, the company fit a story into the previously developed aesthetic discoveries. Second, by developing a sequence that involved the boldest innovations, those belonging to the culture of blindness, into the latter half of the show, the company paved the way for the audience through story (the familiar) into new perceptual experiences (the unknown). Third, in developing a parallel “story” about a lighting operator who is blind and an audio describer who is afraid of the light, the company justified the aesthetic shift with a metatheatrical narrative (the lighting operator dropped the light) while also explicitly introducing a new theme, that of biological blindness. This complementary theme bolstered the existing theme of cultural blindness, and both themes

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were supported by the production’s aesthetic that relied on darkness and sound to connect with audience members. Lastly, the boldest perceptual experience, that of the city soundscape, was saved for last, which meant that there was a progressive aesthetic build throughout the show. All of these careful decisions allowed for this production’s innovative aesthetic to be much better received by audience members than in González’s prior productions, and she sees this as “something gained.”144

Conclusion: A Summary of Creative Approaches Explored in Punto ciego

González’s creative process for Punto ciego provides insight into her broader directing process. A central speculative question (what would it be like if . . . ?) guides her aesthetic explorations and generates new actor training methods. With Punto ciego, González was interested in furthering her aesthetic exploration of darkness and sound on stage, and she thought that blind or visually impaired individuals would offer unique insight into their perceptual relationships with the world. This hunch resulted in an initial interview and immersive blindfold-and-cane experience with María Teresa Larraín, a workshop with spots for individuals who are blind or visually impaired, and the welcoming into the company of actor Lorenzo Morales. These encounters and relationships proved only one part of a rich response to the overarching speculation that guided Punto ciego: what would a work of theatre be like, if it were created for audience members who are blind or visually impaired?

What would it look like if we didn’t prioritize the theatrical experience of seeing audience members over those who are blind or visually impaired?

This speculation led to the creation of enabling and disabling exercises in which the company did away with the hierarchical separation between blind and seeing individuals.

Morales’s presence in the company led to the creation of two key enabling exercises: tactile

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markers for spatial orientation in staging and sound-based lighting operation. Disabling exercises for seeing cast members, particularly blindfold training, not only established a new, non-hierarchical relationship among seeing and blind cast members but also allowed seeing actors to expand their perceptual relationships with the stage and with the world.

The company’s speculative questions also led it to explore the culture of blindness through what members came to call “collision culture” exercises, yet another instance in which seeing cast members’ perceptions of the world were expanded. This training also produced a richer stage soundscape and aesthetic experience for all audience members. The reutilization of a previously developed training, the “touch as if” exercise also served to expand seeing actors’ perceptual relationship with the stage.

In its exploration of the culture of blindness, the company also developed what

González terms expansive audio description. The company took a “tool for inclusion” and turned it into a robust literary, dramaturgical, and theatrical tool designed for seeing and blind audience members alike, and in so doing, broke with all traditions of audio description.

The result was a fascinating tool that united the perceptual experiences of seeing and blind audience members rather than divide them.

The company’s guiding speculation led them to explore sonic objects through a handful of curated props, and this led them to exploit the sound potential of props. This exploration resulted in a unique sonic experience for all audience members, regardless of sight ability. The company also explored the sound potential of their own bodies, in other words, their sonic bodies. In so doing, the creatives developed the idea of “bodies in vocal transit” that allowed them to create a unique acting aesthetic, free from the need to maintain a visual connection with the audience.

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Lastly, the company explored easing the audience into new perceptual experiences by utilizing a story that would frame their aesthetic discoveries. Rather than allow the story to guide the company’s aesthetic explorations in rehearsal, they allowed the aesthetic discoveries to determine both the selection of the story and its arrangement. They strategically placed the boldest aesthetic innovations, those of the culture of blindness, in the latter half of the show so as to ease the audience’s reception of these new experiences. They utilized metatheatricality to justify the aesthetic shift and introduce the idea of biological blindness into the piece. Both the theme of biological blindness and the cultural blindness introduced in the fictional narrative were supported aesthetically by the production’s use of darkness and sound. The production’s innovations progressed toward a final sound installation in a total blackout, an experience for which the audience had been gradually primed throughout the show. Anecdotal evidence suggests that this strategic and nuanced use of fiction made audiences more receptive to new perceptual experiences of darkness and sound.

González’s Expansion of Theatre

The idea of utilizing theatre to speculate is a guiding concept that González inherited from Manuela Infante; however, each individual speculative work of theatre constitutes an expansion of the artform. As González says, every theoretical problem about which a director wants to speculate requires the development of new actor training methods, and as a result, she has, with each of her speculative productions, effectively expanded the body of actor training methods with exercises and concepts that are uniquely her own. Further, when a theatre artist takes a speculation to its limits, as González certainly does, each speculative production expands upon the known aesthetic languages available to theatremakers. I would

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suggest that the exploration of González’s preferred aesthetics, darkness and sound, are not for the faint of heart. When González received mixed feedback from her early productions, rather than shy away into safer aesthetic options or condemn the average theatregoer, she carefully considered the feedback and saw it as an opportunity to expand her own theatrical practice. Her innovative use of story in Punto ciego (Blind Spot), in addition to all her other creations as part of its lengthy rehearsal and research process, is but the latest expansion of her—and as a result, our—theatrical tool kit.

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CONCLUSION

All three of the contemporary Chilean women stage directors studied here are expanding the theatrical artform, whether through political theatre like Andrea Giadach, theatre of sensation like Alexandra von Hummel, or theatre of perceptual experiences like

Ignacia González. Interestingly, we can trace some similarities across their innovations that suggest guiding ideas for theatrical expansion. Perhaps most importantly, all of their approaches, and resulting works of theatre, are highly idiosyncratic; by investing in their own identities, sensibilities, and interests, they are able to expand theatre through the creation of theatrical techniques and aesthetics that are highly unique. Moreover, each of these directors actively chooses to deprioritize something which, in mainstream theatre, is highly prized: for

Giadach it’s the hierarchical understanding of the director; for Von Hummel it’s the text; for

González, it’s visuality. Additionally, they all expand theatre through a shared penchant for experimentation, be it Giadach’s continually evolving technique through her political theatre practice, Von Hummel’s persistent investment in her own imagination, or González’s love of speculating and creating new acting technique.

Further, each of the case-study productions involved lengthy rehearsal periods:

Giadach’s El Círculo was in rehearsal for a year and a half before its first production; Von

Hummel’s Franco had a nine-month rehearsal period before opening; and González’s Punto ciego was in rehearsal for a year and eight months before its first iteration. This commonality suggests the potential to expand theatre through extensive rehearsal. Finally, all three directors are expanding theatre by engaging in constant research, beyond the limits of the theatrical discipline, and enriching their theatre practice with their discoveries. Though their research expands far beyond what was illuminated in each chapter, we saw how Giadach has

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expanded her practice with political philosophy. We reviewed how Von Hummel has expanded her practice with a language rooted in the philosophy of aesthetics, and we observed how González has expanded her practice through perception studies.

This thesis constitutes only a tiny sample of the vast artistic riches of contemporary

Chilean women theatre directors. Each of these directors has so much more to offer theatrical scholarship. I can easily imagine an entire methodological study devoted to Giadach’s ten- year-anniversary redesign of Mi mundo patria, or a methodological study focused on Von

Hummel’s co-directing methods within Teatro La María, or a methodological study based on

González’s continued explorations in Ella y los Cerdos. Beyond these three innovative theatremakers, theatrical scholarship and practice would greatly expand through the widespread documentation of Chilean women theatre directors and Latin America stage directors more broadly.

The process of writing this thesis has led me to conclude that there is significant potential for expansion of the theatrical artform through the documentation of directing methods. Studies of directors’ lives, careers, and aesthetic preferences, in addition to more generic how-to guides to directing, abound, while inventive studies of individual directors’ methods remain scarce. A recent exception to this tendency further bolsters my belief in this potential for expansion. Skinner’s edited volume, Russian Theatre in Practice: The

Director’s Guide (2019), provides rich essays on directors ranging from Stanislavsky and

Meyerhold to Remizova and Sats.1 Importantly, woven through each essay are “In Practice” sections which suggest methods rooted in each director’s philosophies and techniques. These

“In Practice” sections constitute an innovative writing technique that expand theatre by making directors’ methods more accessible and replicable.

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Another valuable exception to the tendency in scholarship on stage directing is XVI

Muestra Nacional de Dramaturgia 2014: Prácticas Creativas, Discusiones, Registros (XVI

National Playwriting Showcase 2014: Creative Practices, Discussions, Archives), edited by

Andrés Grumann Sölter and María de la Luz Hurtado.2 This fascinating Spanish-language work boasts a unique structure that combines interviews and wide-ranging archival materials that illuminate the creative methodologies, not only of directors, but also of playwrights, actors, and designers.* Theatre scholarship and practice would be greatly expanded through additional inventive studies on Chilean women stage directors, in addition to Latin American stage directors more broadly and theatre directors across the globe, in the models of Skinner,

Grumann Sölter, and Hurtado.

It is my hope that this thesis serves as an expansion of theatre through the robust documentation, not only of the theatrical careers and thinking, but also and most particularly of the directing methods, of Andrea Giadach, Alexandra von Hummel, and Ignacia González.

I hope that this thesis also reveals that the documentation of directing methods holds great potential for the expansion of theatre.

* See previous mention of this work on p. 6 of this thesis. 217

APPENDIX A.1. Andrea Giadach’s Directing and Playwriting Credits

Note: Works are listed in reverse chronological order according to the year of first production. This information was obtained from Andrea Giadach’s CV.

Professional Directing El Círculo, 2019 by Andrea Giadach Directed by Alejandra Díaz Scharager and Andrea Giadach Performed at Centro Cultural Matucana 100, sala Patricio Bunster (Santiago, Chile)

Partir lloviendo, 2016 by Antonietta Inostrosa Performed as part of the Festival de Teatro de Coyhaique (Coyhaique, Chile)

Penélope ya no espera, 2014 by Andrea Giadach Performed at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile); Performed as part of the Festival Internacional Lluvia de Teatro (Valdivia, Chile); Performed in 2015 at Teatro SIDARTE (Santiago, Chile)

Recuerdos de cosas que duelen, 2012 by Alejandra Moffat Performed at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral as part of the Festival de Dramaturgia Nacional

La Pequeña Historia de Chile, 2011 Radio play recorded by Radio Cooperativa for Escuela de Espectadores (Santiago, Chile)

Ánimas de Día Claro, 2010 Radio play recorded by Radio Cooperativa for Escuela de Espectadores (Santiago, Chile)

Dentro de la Tierra (staged reading), 2010 by Paco Bezerra Staged reading as part of the Festival de Dramaturgia Europea (Santiago, Chile)

Mi mundo patria, 2008 by Andrea Giadach Performed in numerous venues and for diverse Chilean festivals: Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile), Cielos del Infinito (Punta Arenas, Chile), Festival Internacional Lluvia de Teatro (Valdivia, Chile), Festival de Gualañé (Gualañé, Chile), Festival Galtemporaneo (Temuco, Chile), Festival de Teatro de Santa Cruz (Santa Cruz, Chile), and Festival de Quilicura (Santiago, Chile), among others; Performed in 2014 as part of the Ciclo de Monólogos and the Ciclo Museo de la Memoria (Santiago, Chile);

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Performed in 2019 at Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile); Forthcoming production in April 2020 (Santiago, Chile) Recognized as the Mejor Opera Prima por la Crítica Especializada

University and Educational Directing Freirina, 2018 Universidad de Valparaíso (with additional runs and festival invitations)

Chi/Le, a propósito de Antígona, 2014 Universidad de Valparaíso

Calderón, 2009 by P.P. Pasolini INACAP (with an additional run in 2010) Selected as one of the best university productions of the year in the Festival EXIT, organized by Teatro SIDARTE (Santiago, Chile)

Noche de Paz, 2009 Instituto Profesional La Casa

La Requema, 2009 intertextualidad de La viuda de Apablaza by G. L. Cruchaga and Fedra by Racine Instituto Profesional La Casa

Isidora, 2012 intertextualidad de Los que van quedando en el camino y Los papeleros, both by Isidora Aguirre Instituto Profesional La Casa

Professional Playwriting El Círculo, 2019 Directed by Alejandra Díaz Scharager and Andrea Giadach Performed at Centro Cultural Matucana 100, sala Patricio Bunster

Penélope ya no espera, 2014 Directed by Andrea Giadach Performed at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile); Performed as part of the Festival Internacional Lluvia de Teatro (Valdivia, Chile); Performed in 2015 at Teatro SIDARTE (Santiago, Chile)

La Pobla Unión, 2010 by Andrea Giadach and Alejandra Moffat

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APPENDIX A.2. Complete Credits for Andrea Giadach’s Highlighted Works

Note: Works are listed in reverse chronological order according to the year of first production. This information was obtained from Andrea Giadach’s CV.

El Círculo, 2019 by Andrea Giadach Directed by Alejandra Díaz Scharager and Andrea Giadach Research and Creation: Colectivo Natuf Playwriting Consultant: Pablo Manzi Scenic, Costume, and Lighting Design: Ana Campusano Sound Design and Music Direction: Marcello Martínez Projection Design: Niles Atallah Map Design: Rafael Guendelman Hales Puppet Design and Construction: Santiago Tobar Executive Producer: Alejandra Díaz Scharager General Producer: Emilia Fernanda Morales Ramírez Archival Footage and Marketing Graphic Design: Cristina Hadwa Photography: Rafael Guendelman Hales, Cristina Hadwa, and Andrés Olivares Cast: Shlomit Baytelman, Samantha Manzur, Moisés Norambuena, Constantino Marzuqa, Antonio Zisis, Juan Carlos Saffie Singer: Sofía Molina

Penélope ya no espera, 2014 by Andrea Giadach Directed by Andrea Giadach Scenic Design: Cristian Reyes Technical Director: Francisco Sandoval Azúa Lighting Design: Marcelo Parada Costume Design: Eymeraude Cordon and Andrea Contreras Music and Sound Design: Daniel Marabolí and Marcello Martínez Projection Design: Francesca Nardecchia Graphic Design: Cecilia Cortínez Producer: Evelyn Ortiz Cast: Catalina Saavedra, Lorena Ramírez, Américo Huerta

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Mi mundo patria, 2008 by Andrea Giadach Directed by Andrea Giadach Scenic Design: Natalia Manzor Technical Director: Francisco Sandoval Azua Costume Design: Constanza Gómez Lighting Design: Natalia Manzor Music: Daniel Marabolí Graphic Design: Cecila Cortínez Producer: Francesca Ceccotti Cast: Lorena Ramírez

Tenth-anniversary production of Mi mundo patria, 2019 by Andrea Giadach Directed by Andrea Giadach Scenic Design: Marcelo Parada and Julio Escobar Music: Daniel Marabolí Sound Design: Marcello Martínez Producers: Andrea Giadach and Marcello Martínez Cast: Lorena Ramírez

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APPENDIX A.3. Marketing Materials for Andrea Giadach’s Productions

Figure 63. Poster for Mi mundo patria. Designed by Cecilia Cortínez Merino, 2008. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach. 223

Figure 64. Marketing material for Mi mundo patria. Designed by Marcello Martínez, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach.

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Figure 65. Poster for Penélope ya no espera. Designed by Cecila Cortínez Merino, 2014. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach. 225

Figure 66. Poster for El Círculo. Collage design by Cristina Hadwa, 2019. Courtesy of Andrea Giadach. 226

APPENDIX B.1. Teatro La María Production History

Note: Works are listed in reverse chronological order according to the year of first production. This information was obtained from the Teatro La María’s website and Alexandra von Hummel’s CV.

Fe de ratas, 2018 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2019 at Teatro La Memoria (Santiago, Chile)

El hotel, 2016 by Alexis Moreno Directed by Alexis Moreno and Alexandra von Hummel Performed at Teatro de la Palabra (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2017 at the Teatro Nacional Chileno as part of the Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2018 at the Schaubühne as part of the Festival International Neue Dramatik (FIND) (Berlin, Germany); Performed in 2018 at State University of New York at Oswego (Oswego, NY, USA)

Los millonarios, 2014 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Universidad Católica and Teatro Universidad Mayor (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2015 as part of the Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2015 as part of the Festival Sala de Parto (Lima, Perú); Performed in 2016 at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2016 as part of the Festival FITEI (Porto, Portugal); Performed in 2018 at Syracuse University (Syracuse, NY, USA) and Hobart and William Smith Colleges (Geneva, NY, USA)

Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer, 2012 Adaptation of A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen Directed by Alexandra von Hummel Performed at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile) and Sala UPLA (Valparaíso, Chile); Performed in 2013 as part of the International Modern Ibsen Festival (Tokyo, Japan)

Padre, 2011 by August Strindberg Directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Universidad Católica (Santiago, Chile)

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Topografía de un desnudo, 2010 by Jorge Díaz Directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Sala Agustín Siré and Teatro Universidad Católica (Santiago, Chile); Performed as part of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil 2010 (Santiago, Chile)

Caín, 2009 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Universidad Mayor (Santiago, Chile)

Las huachas, 2008 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Universidad Católica (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2009 as part of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2019 at Teatro La Memoria (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2020 at Teatro Nacional Chileno as part of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile)

Abel, 2007 by Alexis Moreno Directed by Alexis Moreno and Alexandra von Hummel Performed at Teatro Universidad Mayor (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2008 at Teatro Mori as part of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile); Recognized as one of the Mejores Obras of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil 2008

La tercera obra, 2005 Part 3 of Trilogía Pública Adaptation of Fear and Misery of the Third Reich by Bertolt Brecht Directed by Alexandra von Hummel and Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Universidad Mayor (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2006 as part of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2006 (at the invitation of the government of France) at the Festival Les Translatines (Bayonne, France); Performed in 2006 (at the invitation of the government of Italy) in the Festival de Modena (Modena, Italy); performed in 2006 at the Teatro Nuovo (Naples, Italy); Performed in 2007 (at the invitation of the government of France) at La rose des vents (Lille, France), Le Lieu unique (Nantes, France), Le Carré des Jalles (Bordeaux, France), Théâtre de l'Agora (Évry, France), Théâtre Municipal Dionysos Cahors (Cahors, France)

Numancia, 2005 Part 2 of Trilogía Pública by Miguel de Cervantes Directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Mori (Santiago, Chile)

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Superhéroes, 2005 Part 1 of Trilogía Pública Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2010 at Teatro Universidad Mayor (Santiago, Chile)

La gaviota, 2004 Adapted by Alexis Moreno from the original by Anton Chekhov (The Seagull) Directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Centro Cultural Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2005 at Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile) as part of Ciclo Teatro La María

El rufián en la escalera, 2004 by Joe Orton Directed by Alexis Moreno and Alexandra von Hummel Performed at Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (Santiago, Chile) Performed in 2005 at Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile) as part of Ciclo Teatro La María

Hamlet, 2003 by William Shakespeare Directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Teatro Nacional Chileno (Santiago, Chile)

Sin corazón, 2002 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Sala Agustín Siré (Santiago, Chile)

Lástima, 2002 by Alexis Moreno Directed by Alexandra Von Hummel Performed at Sala Sergio Aguirre (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2004 at Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (Santiago, Chile)

Pelícano, 2002 Adapted by Alexis Moreno from the original by August Strindberg Directed by Alexis Moreno and Alexandra Von Hummel Performed at Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2005 at Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile) as part of Ciclo Teatro La María

Trauma, 2001 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2002 at Sala Sergio Aguirre (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2005 at Matucana 100 (Santiago, Chile) as part of Ciclo Teatro La María

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El apocalipsis de mi vida, 2000 Written and directed by Alexis Moreno Performed at Sala Sergio Aguirre (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2002 at Sala Sergio Aguirre (Santiago, Chile)

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APPENDIX B.2. Alexandra von Hummel’s Professional Directing Credits

Note: Works are listed in reverse chronological order according to the year of first production. This information was obtained from Alexandra von Hummel’s CV.

Isabel desterrada en Isabel, 2020 by Juan Radrigán Performed as part of the Festival de Teatro de Quilicura (Santiago, Chile); Forthcoming production in Teatro La Memoria (Santiago, Chile)

Franco, 2018 by María José Pizarro Performed at Teatro SIDARTE (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2018 at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2019 at Teatro La Memoria as part of Festival Internacional Santiago a Mil (Santiago, Chile) Awarded the Premio Mejor Diseño Integral dEl Círculo de Críticos Chile

La Chica, 2014 by Karen Bauer Performed at Matucana 100 as part of the Muestra Nacional de Dramaturgia (Santiago, Chile)

Palo Rosa, 2014 by Juan Andrés Rivera Performed at Teatro UC (Santiago, Chile)

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Por el bien de todos, 2010 by Francesco Randazzo Performed at the Goethe Institut as part of the X Muestra de Dramaturgia Europea (Santiago, Chile)

Almuerzo en casa de Ludwig, 2010 by Thomas Bernhard Performed at Sala Universidad Mayor and Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile)

La Casa del Sí, 2009 by Wendy MacLeod Performed as part of the 2º Festival de Dramaturgia Norteamericana Awarded Premio Mejor Montaje and Premio Mejor Dirección de Arte

Las Neurosis Sexuales de Nuestros Padres, 2004 by Lukas Bärfuss Performed at the Centro Cultural de España as part of the IV Muestra de Dramaturgia

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Lástima, 2002 by Alexis Moreno Performed at Sala Sergio Aguirre (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2004 at Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (Santiago, Chile)

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APPENDIX B.3. Complete Credits for Alexandra von Hummel’s Highlighted Works

Franco, 2018 by María José Pizarro Directed by Alexandra von Hummel Scenic Design: Alexandra von Hummel Lighting Design: Rodrigo Ruiz Cast: Juan Gálvez, Javiera Mendoza, Alejandro Fonseca, and Martín Flores

El hotel, 2016 by Alexis Moreno Directed by Alexis Moreno and Alexandra von Hummel Scenic and Lighting Design: Rodrigo Ruiz Costume Design: Teatro La María Cast: Alexandra von Hummel, Tamara Acosta, Alexis Moreno, Elvis Fuentes, Manuel Peña, Rodrigo Soto

Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer, 2012 Adaptation of A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen Directed by Alexandra von Hummel Assistant Director: Moises Angulo Lighting Design: Ricardo Romero Scenic Design: Rodrigo Ruiz Costume Design: Carolina Sapiaín Producer: Catalina Olea Graphic Design: Alonso Reyes Cast: Tamara Acosta (Nora), Elvis Fuentes (Torvaldo), Alexis Moreno (Krogstad), Alejandra Oviedo (Cristina), Rodrigo Soto (Rank)

La tercera obra, 2005 Part 3 of Trilogía Pública Adaptation of Fear and Misery of the Third Reich by Bertolt Brecht Directed by Alexandra von Hummel and Alexis Moreno Lighting Design: Ricardo Romero Scenic Design: Teatro La María Costume Design: Carolina Sapiaín Cast: Roberto Farías, Cristian Carvajal, Moises Angulo, Alexis Moreno y Alexandra von Hummel

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APPENDIX B.4. Marketing Materials for Alexandra von Hummel’s Highlighted Productions

Figure 67. Poster for La tercera obra. Designed by Alexandra von Hummel, 2005. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 235

Figure 68. Poster for Persiguiendo a Nora Helmer. Designed by Alonso Reyes, 2012. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 236

Figure 69. Poster for El hotel. Designed by Alonso Reyes, 2016. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 237

Figure 70. Poster for Franco. Designed by Juan Ignacio Viveros, 2019. Courtesy of Alexandra von Hummel. 238

APPENDIX C.1. Ignacia González’s Directing and Assistant Directing Credits

Note: Works are listed in reverse chronological order according to the year of first production. This information was obtained from Ignacia González’s CV.

Professional Directing Ella y los cerdos, 2019 by Leonardo González Perfolectura directed by Ignacia González Performed at Teatro del Puente as part of the Santiago OFF Festival (Santiago, Chile) (Santiago, Chile)

Granma. Trombones from Havana, 2019 by Aljoscha Begriff Directed by Stefan Kaegi of Rimini Protokoll with Ignacia González serving as directing intern Performed at Maxim Gorki Theater (Berlin, Germany)

Punto Ciego, 2018 by Ignacia González and Tomás Henriquez Directed by Ignacia González Performed at Centro Cultural Gabriela Mistral (Santiago, Chile); Performed in 2019 at Teatro del Puente and Sala Agustín Siré (Santiago, Chile)

Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo, 2016 by Compañía de Teatro PERSONA Directed by Ignacia González and María Fernanda Giacaman Performed at Teatro del Puente and Sala de Arte Escénico UPLA (Santiago, Chile)

La Fábrica de Vidrio, 2015 by Compañía de Teatro PERSONA Directed by Ignacia González Performed at Espacio Blanco Recoleta (Santiago, Chile)

University and Educational Directing El Gesticulador, 2017 by Rodolfo Usigli Directed by Aliocha de la Sotta Assistant directed by Ignacia González Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile

La espera, 2012 by Belén Contreras Undergraduate playwriting course supervised by Juan Radrigán Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile

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Abajo del paraíso, 2010 by Ignacia González Directed by Ignacia González Performed as part of the Festival Inter-escuelas of the Universidad de Chile

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APPENDIX C.2. Complete Credits for Ignacia González’s Highlighted Works

Ella y los cerdos, 2019 by Leonardo González Directed by Ignacia González Sound Research: Ignacia González y Francisca Traslaviña Lighting Research: Gabriela Torrejón Props Research: Fernanda Videla Photographer: Juan Hoppe Cast: Francisca Traslaviña

Punto Ciego, 2018 by Ignacia González and Tomás Henriquez Directed by Ignacia González Credits from 2019 performance at Teatro del Puente: Sound Design: Fernando Matus de la Parra Scenography: Gabriela Torrejón Producer: Guisselle Miranda Cast: Francisca Traslaviña, Lorenzo Morales, Juan Diego Bonilla, Patrizio Gecele, and Ignacia González

Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo, 2016 by Compañía de Teatro PERSONA Directed by Ignacia González and María Fernanda Giacaman Original Idea: María Fernanda Giacaman Sound Design: Fernando Matus de la Parra Design and Technical Direction: Gabriela Torrejón Producer: Valentina Gavilán Graphic Designer: María Cristo Audiovisual Designer: Enrique Farías Photographer: Juan Hoppe Cast: Valentina Parada, Magdalena Fuentes, and Tania Novoa

La Fábrica de Vidrio, 2015 by Compañía de Teatro PERSONA Directed by Ignacia González Sound Design: Aurelio Silva Design and Technical Direction: Andrea Pizarro Producer: Valentina Gavilán Graphic Design: Camila Donoso Audiovisual Design: Camila Donoso Photographer: Juan Hoppe Cast: María Fernanda Giacaman, Magdalena Fuentes, and Matias Segura

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APPENDIX C.3. Marketing Materials for Ignacia González’s Productions

Figure 71. Poster for La fábrica de vidrio. Designed by Camila Donoso, 2015. Courtesy of Ignacia González. 242

Figure 72. Poster for Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo. Designed by María Cristo, 2016. Courtesy of Ignacia González. 243

Figure 73. Photograph of poster for Punto ciego with relief work in Braille. Designed by Colectiva Simaril, 2018. Courtesy of Ignacia González. 244

NOTES

Introduction

1 Ignacia González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, July 17, 2019. 2 Anne Fliotsos and Wendy Vierow, International Women Stage Directors (University of Illinois Press, 2013), 1. 3 Fliotsos and Vierow, International Women Stage Directors. 4 Gustavo Geirola, Arte y Oficio Del Director Teatral En América Latina: Argentina, Chile, Paraguay y Uruguay (Buenos Aires: Editorial Nueva Generación, 2007). 5 Manuela Oyarzún, Investigación y Práctica Escénica Sobre El Terremoto de Chile (Santiago de Chile: ediciones / metales pesados, 2013). 6 Malucha Pinto, CasaSueños (Santiago de Chile: RIL editores, 2014). 7 Paula González Seguel, ed., Dramaturgias de La Resistencia: Teatro Documental Kimvn Marry Xipantv, Primera edición (Santiago de Chile: Pehuén Editores, S.A., 2018). 8 “Mujeres en el teatro (1900-1950): actrices, directoras y dramaturgas,” in Memoria Chilena (Santiago, Chile: Biblioteca Nacional de Chile), accessed April 20, 2020, http://www.memoriachilena.gob.cl/602/w3-article- 100566.html. 9 “Mujeres En El Teatro (1950-2010): Actrices, Directoras y Dramaturgas,” in Memoria Chilena (Santiago, Chile: Biblioteca Nacional de Chile), accessed May 27, 2019, http://www.memoriachilena.gob.cl/602/w3- article-100705.html. 10 Caja los Andes et al., “Home,” Chile Escena: Memoria activa del teatro chileno, accessed May 2, 2020, http://www.chileescena.cl/. 11 “Archivo Teatro de Chile,” accessed April 20, 2020, https://archivo.teatrodechile.cl/. 12 “Home,” Escenix, 2020. 13 Fundación Teatro a Mil, “Obras Completas,” TEATROAMIL.TV, accessed April 20, 2020, https://teatroamil.tv/obras-completas/. 14 “Quienes Somos,” Teatro La Maria (blog), accessed January 19, 2020, http://teatrolamaria.cl/quienes-somos/. 15 Alexandra von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria de Obra: La Puesta En Escena Como Anagrama o Escucha Múltiple: Proliferación Del Habla y Del Cuerpo En Franco” (MA Thesis presented to la Escuela de Teatro de la Facultad de Artes de la Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, Santiago de Chile, 2017). 16 Andrés Grumann Sölter and María de la Luz Hurtado, eds., XVI MUESTRA NACIONAL DE DRAMATURGIA 2014 prácticas creativas, discusiones, registros (Santiago, Chile: Consejo Nacional de la Cultura y las Artes, 2015). 17 Frode Helland, “In Pursuit of Nora Helmer (2012),” in Ibsen in Practice: Relational Readings of Performance, Cultural Encounters and Power, Methuen Drama Engage (Bloomsbury Methuen Drama, 2015), 68–75. 18 Fernanda Carvajal and Camila van Diest, “Teatro La María: Filiaciones Inciertas y Orquestaciones de La Violencia,” in Nomadismos y Ensamblajes: Compañías Teatrales En Chile 1990-2008, 1a edición (Santiago, Chile: Editorial Cuarto Propio, 2009), 301–41. 19 Daniela Cápona Pérez and Alicia Del Campo Figueroa, Figuraciones Del Mal. Agresores y Violencia Política En El Teatro Chileno Contemporáneo. (Santiago de Chile: FONDART, 2019). 20 “Compañía,” Territorio Particular, accessed February 15, 2020, https://lorepan.wixsite.com/ciadeteatro/compaa. 21 Verónica Duarte Loveluck, “Mi mundo patria: puesta en escena, representación y presentación.,” Apuntes 130 (2008): 33–37. 22 El Mostrador Cultura, “Lanzamiento libro ‘Imaginar la escena: teatro chileno contemporáneo para jóvenes’ en Centro GAM,” El Mostrador, January 7, 2019, https://www.elmostrador.cl/ahora/2019/01/07/lanzamiento- libro-imaginar-la-escena-teatro-chileno-contemporaneo-para-jovenes-en-centro-gam/. 23 Ignacia González Torres, “Percibir En La Oscuridad: Alteraciones de La Noción de Cuerpo, Espacio y Tiempo Escénico En La Percepción Auditiva y Visual” (MA Thesis presented to la Escuela de Teatro de la Facultad de Artes de la Pontificia Universidad Católica de Chile, Santiago de Chile, 2015).

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Chapter 1

1 Andrea Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, July 4, 2019. 2 Giadach Cristensen. 3 Giadach Cristensen. 4 Giadach Cristensen. 5 Giadach Cristensen. 6 “Dood Paard - Victor, or Power to the Children,” accessed April 20, 2020, http://www.doodpaard.nl/project/148/?lang=en. 7 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 8 Giadach Cristensen. 9 Giadach Cristensen. 10 Pedro Labra Araya, “Mi Mundo Patria: Asombrosa Joyita,” El Mercurio, May 23, 2008, sec. Crítica Teatro. 11 “Teatro en Centex: Mi Mundo Patria,” El Martutino, March 19, 2014, http://www.elmartutino.cl/noticia/cultura/teatro-en-centex-mi-mundo-patria. 12 Andrea Jeftanovic, “El gesto de Scherezade o un ejercicio de narrativas rivales,” Revista Wikén, May 31, 2019. 13 “Marguerite Duras | French Author,” Encyclopedia Britannica, accessed April 20, 2020, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Marguerite-Duras. 14 Andrea Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, January 14, 2020. 15 Giadach Cristensen. 16 Giadach Cristensen. 17 Giadach Cristensen. 18 Giadach Cristensen. 19 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 20 Giadach Cristensen. 21 Giadach Cristensen. 22 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 23 Giadach Cristensen. 24 Giadach Cristensen; Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 25 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 26 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 27 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 28 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 29 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 30 “Resultados Fondart Nacional 2019,” Fondos Cultura, accessed February 17, 2020, https://www.fondosdecultura.cl/resultados-fondart-nacional-2019/; “Artes escénicas - Fondart nacional 2020,” Fondos Cultura, accessed February 17, 2020, https://www.fondosdecultura.cl//area/teatro/artes-escenicas- fondart-nacional-2020/. 31 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 32 Giadach Cristensen. 33 Giadach Cristensen. 34 Giadach Cristensen. 35 Giadach Cristensen. 36 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 37 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 38 Giadach Cristensen. 39 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 40 Giadach Cristensen. 41 Giadach Cristensen. 42 Giadach Cristensen. 246

43 Giadach Cristensen; “Penélope ya no espera,” Territorio Particular, accessed February 20, 2020, https://lorepan.wixsite.com/ciadeteatro/single-post/2015/08/02/%E2%80%9CPen%C3%A9lope-ya-no- espera%E2%80%9D-una-obra-potente-donde-el-pasado-y-el-futuro-se-encuentran. 44 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 45 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 46 Giadach Cristensen. 47 Giadach Cristensen. 48 Giadach Cristensen. 49 Giadach Cristensen. 50 Andrea Giadach Cristensen, Personal Communication. February 12, 2020. 51 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 52 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 53 Giadach Cristensen. 54 Giadach Cristensen. 55 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 56 Giadach Cristensen. 57 Giadach Cristensen. 58 Giadach Cristensen. 59 Giadach Cristensen. 60 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 61 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 62 Giadach Cristensen, Andrea. Personal Communication, May 25, 2020. 63 Giadach Cristensen. 64 Giadach Cristensen. 65 Giadach Cristensen. 66 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 67 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 68 The Editors of Encyclopedia Britannica, “Edward Said,” in Encyclopedia Britannica, accessed February 23, 2020, https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edward-Said. 69 Edward Said, Orientalism, Penguin Classics (London: Penguin, 2003), 2. 70 Said, 21. 71 Said, Orientalism. 72 Said, 6. 73 Said, 12. 74 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 75 Eduardo Restrepo and Axel Rojas, Inflexión Decolonial: Fuentes, Conceptos y Cuestionamientos, Primera edición, Colección Políticas de La Alteridad (Popayán, Colombia: Editorial Universidad del Cauca, 2010), 37– 38. 76 Restrepo and Rojas, 16. 77 Restrepo and Rojas, 15. 78 Restrepo and Rojas, 18. 79 Restrepo and Rojas, 18. 80 Restrepo and Rojas, 20. 81 Restrepo and Rojas, 25. 82 Said, Orientalism, 327. 83 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Communication. February 12, 2020. 84 Andrea Giadach Cristensen. Personal Communication, May 25, 2020. 85 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 86 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 87 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 88 Giadach Cristensen. 89 Giadach Cristensen. 90 Andrea Giadach Cristensen. Personal Communication, May 25, 2020. 91 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 247

92 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 93 Giadach Cristensen. 94 Giadach Cristensen. 95 Giadach Cristensen. 96 Andrea Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo, 2019, unpublished. 97 Alejandra Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, July 12, 2019. 98 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 99 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 100 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 101 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 102 Giadach Cristensen. 103 Giadach Cristensen. 104 Giadach Cristensen. 105 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 106 Díaz Scharager. 107 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 108 Giadach Cristensen. 109 Giadach Cristensen; Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 110 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 111 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 112 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 113 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 114 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 115 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 116 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 117 Díaz Scharager. 118 Díaz Scharager. 119 Díaz Scharager. 120 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 121 Giadach Cristensen. 122 Giadach Cristensen. 123 Giadach Cristensen. 124 Giadach Cristensen. 125 Alejandra Díaz Scharager, Personal Communication. April 14, 2020. 126 Díaz Scharager. 127 Díaz Scharager. 128 Díaz Scharager. 129 “Liberatory Passover Haggadah,” Jewish Voice for Peace (blog), March 21, 2018, 2, https://jewishvoiceforpeace.org/passover-haggadah/. 130 “Liberatory Passover Haggadah,” 14. 131 Díaz Scharager, Personal Communication. April 14, 2020. 132 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS; Álvaro Machado, “O teatro como sensibilização de visões anestesiadas ante a invasão da Palestina,” Mostra Internacional de Teatro de São Paulo (blog), March 21, 2017, https://mitsp.org/2017/o-teatro-como-sensibilizacao-de-visoes- anestesiadas-ante-a-invasao-da-palestina/. 133 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 134 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 135 Giadach Cristensen; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 136 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 137 Alejandra Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS2, Zoom, May 24, 2020. 138 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 139 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 140 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 248

141 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 142 Díaz Scharager; Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 143 Annemarie Jacir, Milh Hadha Al-Bahr (JBA Production, 2008), https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1090680/. 144 Jacir. 145 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 146 Díaz Scharager. 147 Díaz Scharager; Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 148 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 149 Giadach Cristensen. 150 Giadach Cristensen; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 151 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 152 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 153 Giadach Cristensen. 154 Giadach Cristensen; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 155 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 156 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 157 Díaz Scharager. 158 Díaz Scharager. 159 Díaz Scharager. 160 Díaz Scharager; Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 161 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 162 Giadach Cristensen. 163 Giadach Cristensen. 164 Giadach Cristensen. 165 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 166 Díaz Scharager. 167 Alejandra Díaz Scharager, “Manifiesto,” August 8, 2018. 168 Díaz Scharager. 169 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 170 Giadach Cristensen; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 171 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 172 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2; Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 173 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 174 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 175 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 176 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 177 Giadach Cristensen. 178 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 179 Díaz Scharager. 180 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 181 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 182 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 183 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 184 Giadach Cristensen. 185 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 186 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 187 Giadach Cristensen, Andrea, Personal Communication. February 29, 2020. 188 Giadach Cristensen, Andrea. 189 Giadach Cristensen, Andrea. 190 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 191 Giadach Cristensen. 192 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 193 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 194 Giadach Cristensen, Andrea, Personal Communication. February 29, 2020. 249

195 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 196 Giadach Cristensen. 197 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 198 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 199 Díaz Scharager. 200 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 201 Giadach Cristensen. 202 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 203 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 204 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 205 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 206 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 207 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 208 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC. 209 Giadach Cristensen. 210 Giadach Cristensen. 211 Constantino Marzuqa, Personal Interview: CM, Zoom, April 18, 2020. 212 Marzuqa. 213 Marzuqa. 214 Elisa Montesinos, “Shlomit Baytelman y Samantha Manzur: El encuentro del mundo judío y palestino a través del teatro,” El Desconcierto, May 19, 2019, https://www.eldesconcierto.cl/2019/05/19/shlomit- baytelman-y-samantha-manzur-el-encuentro-del-mundo-judio-y-palestino-a-traves-del-teatro/. 215 Montesinos. 216 Montesinos. 217 Montesinos. 218 Giadach Cristensen, El Círculo. 219 Giadach Cristensen. 220 Giadach Cristensen. 221 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS2. 222 Moisés Norambuena, Personal Interview: MN, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Zoom, April 18, 2020. 223 Norambuena. 224 Norambuena. 225 Norambuena. 226 Norambuena. 227 Norambuena. 228 Norambuena. 229 Norambuena. 230 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 231 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS. 232 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS2. 233 Alejandra Díaz Scharager, “Conversatorio,” 2020. 234 Díaz Scharager, Personal Interview: ADS2. 235 Giadach Cristensen, Personal Interview: AGC2. 236 Giadach Cristensen. 237 Díaz Scharager, “Conversatorio.” 238 Norambuena, Personal Interview: MN; Díaz Scharager, “Conversatorio.” 239 Norambuena, Personal Interview: MN. 240 Andrea Giadach Cristensen, Personal Communication, May 25, 2020. 241 Díaz Scharager, “Conversatorio.” 242 Díaz Scharager.

250

Chapter 2

1 Alexandra von Hummel, Personal Interview: AVH, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, July 12, 2019. 2 von Hummel. 3 von Hummel. 4 von Hummel. 5 “Estos son los nuevos talentos del teatro joven,” El Mercurio, September 4, 2000. 6 Francisco Pérez, “La María: El teatro como acto de rebeldía y resistencia brutal,” Galio, October 19, 2018, http://galio.cl/2018/10/19/la-maria-el-teatro-como-acto-de-rebeldia-y-resistencia-brutal/. 7 “Quienes Somos.” 8 “Las Huachas,” Santiago a Mil 2020, accessed January 19, 2020, https://www.santiagoamil.cl/obras-2020/las- huachas/. 9 Carvajal and van Diest, “Teatro La María: Filiaciones,” 325. 10 “Teatro La María,” in Chile Escena: Memoria Activa Del Teatro Chileno, accessed January 19, 2020, http://www.chileescena.cl/index.php?seccion=compania&idColeccion=35. 11 P.B.Ch., “Teatro La María lleva dos obras a Nueva York,” La Tercera, February 14, 2018, https://www.latercera.com/cultura/noticia/teatro-la-maria-lleva-dos-obras-nueva-york/67200/. 12 Carvajal and van Diest, “Teatro La María: Filiaciones,” 335; Pérez, “La María: El teatro como acto de rebeldía.” 13 Carvajal and van Diest, “Teatro La María: Filiaciones,” 329. 14 Miguel de Cervantes, The Voyage to Parnassus, The Siege of Numantia, and The Treaty of Algiers, trans. Gordon Willoughby James Gyll (Digireads.com, 2014). 15 “Estos son los nuevos talentos.” 16 “Estos son los nuevos talentos.” 17 von Hummel, AVH. 18 von Hummel. 19 von Hummel. 20 Tony Kushner, Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes, First Revised Combined Edition (Theatre Communications Group, Inc., 2013), 3. 21 von Hummel, AVH. 22 von Hummel. 23 von Hummel. 24 von Hummel. 25 von Hummel. 26 von Hummel. 27 von Hummel. 28 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 42. 29 Alexandra von Hummel, Personal Interview: AVH2, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, October 17, 2019. 30 von Hummel. 31 von Hummel, AVH. 32 von Hummel. 33 von Hummel, AVH2. 34 Gilles Deleuze, Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, trans. Daniel W. Smith (Continuum, 2003), 38–39. 35 Deleuze, 34. 36 Deleuze, 41. 37 Deleuze, 36. 38 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 12. 39 von Hummel Zegers, 123. 40 von Hummel Zegers, 113. 41 Juan José Richards, “Alexandra von Hummel: Salto de fe,” Revista Paula, September 26, 2018, https://www.paula.cl/reportajes-y-entrevistas/alexandra-von-hummel-salto-fe/. 42 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 20. 43 von Hummel Zegers, 20. 251

44 von Hummel Zegers, 24. 45 von Hummel, AVH. 46 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 28–29. 47 von Hummel, AVH. 48 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 116. 49 von Hummel Zegers, 116. 50 von Hummel, AVH2. 51 von Hummel. 52 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 117. 53 von Hummel, AVH2. 54 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 28. 55 von Hummel, AVH. 56 von Hummel, AVH2. 57 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 24. 58 von Hummel Zegers, 24. 59 “El Hotel,” Teatro La María (blog), accessed January 29, 2020, http://teatrolamaria.cl/project/el-hotel/. 60 von Hummel, AVH2; von Hummel, AVH. 61 von Hummel, AVH2. 62 von Hummel, AVH. 63 von Hummel, AVH2. 64 von Hummel. 65 von Hummel. 66 von Hummel, AVH. 67 von Hummel. 68 von Hummel, AVH2. 69 von Hummel. 70 von Hummel, AVH. 71 von Hummel, AVH2. 72 María José Pizarro, Franco, 2019, unpublished. 73 Pizarro. 74 Pizarro. 75 von Hummel, AVH2. 76 von Hummel. 77 von Hummel. 78 von Hummel. 79 von Hummel. 80 von Hummel. 81 von Hummel. 82 von Hummel. 83 von Hummel. 84 von Hummel. 85 von Hummel. 86 von Hummel. 87 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 67. 88 von Hummel Zegers, 73. 89 von Hummel Zegers, 73. 90 von Hummel, AVH2. 91 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 48. 92 von Hummel Zegers, 70. 93 Pizarro, Franco. 94 “Slang,” in Merriam-Webster.Com Dictionary, accessed January 28, 2020, https://www.merriam- webster.com/dictionary/slang. 95 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 71. 96 von Hummel Zegers, 73. 252

97 von Hummel Zegers, 74. 98 von Hummel Zegers, 74. 99 von Hummel Zegers, 73. 100 von Hummel, AVH2. 101 von Hummel. 102 von Hummel. 103 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 78. 104 von Hummel, AVH2. 105 von Hummel. 106 von Hummel. 107 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 73. 108 von Hummel Zegers, 80. 109 Pizarro, Franco. 110 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 82. 111 von Hummel Zegers, 88. 112 von Hummel Zegers, 86. 113 von Hummel Zegers, 86. 114 von Hummel Zegers, 97. 115 von Hummel, AVH2. 116 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 97. 117 von Hummel Zegers, 99. 118 Deleuze, Francis Bacon, 12. 119 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 102. 120 von Hummel Zegers, 89. 121 von Hummel Zegers, 93. 122 Deleuze, Francis Bacon, 12. 123 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 99. 124 von Hummel Zegers, 108. 125 von Hummel Zegers, 18–19. 126 von Hummel Zegers, 106. 127 von Hummel Zegers, 109. 128 von Hummel, AVH2. 129 Pizarro, Franco. 130 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 111. 131 von Hummel, AVH2. 132 von Hummel. 133 von Hummel. 134 von Hummel. 135 von Hummel. 136 von Hummel, AVH. 137 Deleuze, Francis Bacon, 12. 138 von Hummel Zegers, “Memoria,” 115. 139 von Hummel Zegers, 123.

253

Chapter 3

1 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Skype, July 17, 2019. 2 González Torres. 3 González Torres. 4 González Torres. 5 González Torres. 6 González Torres. 7 González Torres. 8 González Torres. 9 “Inicio,” Compañía Persona (blog), accessed March 7, 2020, https://ciapersona.cl/. 10 “Inicio.” 11 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 12 González Torres. 13 “La Fábrica de Vidrio,” Compañía Persona (blog), accessed March 7, 2020, https://ciapersona.cl/portfolio- item/la-fabrica-de-vidrio/. 14 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 15 González Torres. 16 González Torres. 17 “Telepatía, la nostalgia del cuerpo,” Compañía Persona (blog), accessed March 7, 2020, https://ciapersona.cl/portfolio-item/telepatia-nostalgia-del-cuerpo/. 18 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 19 González Torres. 20 González Torres. 21 González Torres. 22 González Torres. 23 González Torres. 24 González Torres. 25 González Torres. 26 González Torres. 27 Karina Mondaca Cea, “Teatro de Chile y Realismo: ‘Nos preguntamos cómo sería un teatro que no se rigiera por las leyes antropocéntricas,’” Fundación Teatro a Mil, December 1, 2017, https://www.fundacionteatroamil.cl/noticias-2019/teatro-de-chile-y-realismo-nos-preguntamos-cómo-sería-un- teatro-que-no-se-rigiera-por-las-leyes-antropocéntricas/; CIM/Ae, ESTADO VEGETAL de Manuela Infante, 2018, https://vimeo.com/252358003. 28 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 29 Ignacia González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2, interview by Mary Allison Joseph, Personal Communication, January 30, 2020. 30 González Torres. 31 González Torres. 32 González Torres. 33 González Torres. 34 González Torres. 35 “Ella y Los Cerdos, Festival STGO. OFF,” Teatro del Puente, accessed April 6, 2020, https://www.teatrodelpuente.cl/espectaculos/ella-y-los-cerdos-festival-stgo-off/. 36 Leonardo González, Ella y Los Cerdos, n.d. 37 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 38 González Torres. 39 González Torres. 40 González Torres. 41 González Torres. 42 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 43 González Torres. 44 González Torres. 254

45 González Torres. 46 González Torres. 47 González Torres. 48 González Torres. 49 González Torres. 50 “Aesthetic,” in Merriam-Webster.Com Dictionary, accessed April 8, 2020, https://www.merriam- webster.com/dictionary/aesthetic. 51 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 52 González Torres. 53 González Torres. 54 González Torres. 55 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 56 González Torres. 57 González Torres. 58 González Torres. 59 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 60 González Torres. 61 González Torres, “Percibir En La Oscuridad,” 167; González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 62 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 63 González Torres. 64 Ignacia González and Tomás Henríquez, Punto Ciego, 2018, unpublished. 65 González and Henríquez. 66 González and Henríquez. 67 Ignacia González Torres, Personal Communication. April 11, 2020. 68 González Torres. 69 Ignacia González and Lorenzo Morales, “Tecnologías Expansivas” (INCLUYE 2018: Cuarto Encuentro de Prácticas Inclusivas en la Cultura y las Artes, GAM, Santiago de Chile, August 2018). 70 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 71 González Torres. 72 González Torres. 73 González Torres. 74 González Torres. 75 González Torres. 76 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 77 “Social Model of Disability,” Scope, accessed April 11, 2020, https://www.scope.org.uk/about-us/social- model-of-disability/. 78 González and Morales, “Tecnologías Expansivas.” 79 González and Morales. 80 González and Morales. 81 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 82 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 83 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 84 González Torres. 85 González Torres. 86 González and Morales, “Tecnologías Expansivas.” 87 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 88 González Torres. 89 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 90 González Torres. 91 Ignacia González Torres, Personal Communication, April 13, 2020. 92 González Torres. 93 González Torres. 94 González Torres. 95 González Torres. 255

96 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 97 González Torres. 98 González and Morales, “Tecnologías Expansivas.” 99 González and Morales. 100 González and Morales. 101 González and Henríquez, Punto Ciego. 102 González and Henríquez. 103 González and Henríquez. 104 González and Henríquez. 105 González and Henríquez. 106 González and Henríquez. 107 González and Henríquez. 108 González and Henríquez. 109 González and Henríquez. 110 González and Henríquez. 111 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 112 González and Henríquez, Punto Ciego. 113 Ignacia González Torres, Archival Footage of Punto Ciego, 2019, unpublished. 114 González and Henríquez, Punto Ciego. 115 González and Henríquez. 116 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 117 González and Morales, “Tecnologías Expansivas.” 118 González and Morales. 119 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 120 González and Henríquez, Punto Ciego. 121 González and Henríquez. 122 González and Henríquez. 123 González and Henríquez. 124 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 125 González Torres, “Percibir En La Oscuridad,” 81. 126 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT2. 127 González and Henríquez, Punto Ciego. 128 González and Henríquez. 129 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 130 González Torres. 131 González Torres. 132 González Torres. 133 González Torres. 134 González Torres. 135 González Torres. 136 González Torres. 137 González Torres. 138 González Torres. 139 González Torres. 140 González Torres. 141 González and Henríquez, Punto Ciego. 142 González Torres, Personal Interview: IGT. 143 González Torres. 144 González Torres.

256

Conclusion

1 Amy Skinner, Russian Theatre in Practice: The Director’s Guide (London and New York: Methuen Drama, 2019). 2 Andrés Grumann Sölter and María de la Luz Hurtado, eds., XVI MUESTRA NACIONAL DE DRAMATURGIA 2014 prácticas creativas, discusiones, registros (Santiago, Chile: Consejo Nacional de la Cultura y las Artes, 2015).

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VITA

Mary Allison Joseph was born on May 25, 1986 in Greensboro, North Carolina. She grew up in Greenville, South Carolina, and graduated from James L. Mann Academy in

2004. She attended the University of South Carolina (USC) in Columbia, graduating in 2009 with a bachelor’s degree in Spanish. While at USC, she studied abroad at the Universidad

Valle del Momboy in Venezuela, in addition to living and volunteering in the nearby rural town of Carorita for two years. Mary Allison served as field research assistant on faculty research trips to Caracas, Venezuela, and Buenos Aires, Argentina, and worked as a medical interpreter for Comunicar Language Services, LLC, throughout college. She was awarded a research grant that resulted in the co-authored article "When ‘Sort of Right’ Is Not Enough:

A Study of Medical Interpretation for Monolingual Spanish-speaking Patients in South

Carolina” in Practicing Anthropology in 2008.

After graduation, Mary Allison worked as the Program and Engagement Associate at the Wesley Foundation at USC before moving to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, in 2010. In Rio, she worked as the Networks Coordinator and Director of Community Relations for the nonprofits

Catalytic Communities and Mobile Metrix, respectively. In 2013, Mary Allison transitioned into the performing arts world. Having been an avid social dancer since her time abroad in

Venezuela, Mary Allison became a samba de gafieira apprentice at the Academia de Dança

Jimmy Oliveira. After studying with a group of actors in the graduate movement studies program at Escola e Faculdade de Dança Angel Vianna, Mary Allison auditioned for and was accepted into the actor training program at Escola Técnica Estadual de Teatro Martins Penna, founded in 1908.

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In 2015, Mary Allison was awarded a Fulbright grant to research folk performance traditions in the Dominican Republic. During her grant period, she recorded over 200 examples of rapidly disappearing traditions, primarily work and folk religious songs, in the area surrounding the central mountain city of Jarabacoa. After completing her research, Mary

Allison relocated to Kansas City in 2016 to follow a hunch that she wanted to pursue graduate work in theatre. She held several staff positions at the University of Missouri-

Kansas City and was awarded the Student Affairs’ Student Mentor Staff Award in 2017.

Mary Allison entered the Master of Arts program in Theatre in the Fall of 2017. She has since worked as dramaturg at Kansas City Repertory Theatre (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime, 2018), the Unicorn Theatre (Project Dawn, 2018), and Kansas City

Actors’ Theatre (Death and the Maiden, 2019). After studying directing with Professor

Theodore Swetz, Mary Allison identified her calling and has since assistant directed

(Discovering Hamlet, 2018; The Moors, 2019) and directed (So the Flag and Joshua, 2019) for UMKC Theatre.

During her tenure at UMKC Theatre, Mary Allison has been awarded Women’s

Council Graduate Assistant Fund grants in 2018, 2019, and 2020 to attend the Kennedy

Center New Play Dramaturgy Intensive in Washington, D.C., to participate in the Out of the

Wings Festival of Theatre in Translation in London, and to conduct field research in

Santiago, Chile. She was also awarded a research grant from the School of Graduate Studies in 2017 to travel to Santiago, Chile, where she interviewed eleven women theatre directors, conducted archival research, and attended four productions directed by women directors.

Moving forward, Mary Allison plans to continue her study of women directors and directing technique, in addition to directing her own projects.

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